


The Years of My Longing

by Malkuthe



Series: At the Break of Dawn [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Affairs, Alcohol, Angst, Another crisis is coming, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Developing Relationship, Did I mention more angst?, Hand Jobs, Heterosexuality, Homecoming, Love Confessions, M/M, Mindfuck, More angst, Nico di Angelo is profoundly more powerful than ever before, Off-screen Relationship(s), Open Relationships, Other Gods - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Penetration Aversion, Puppy Play, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sexuality Crisis, Someone is going to die, Time Skips, Will Solace is also more powerful, dub-con, for realsies this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 52
Words: 277,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkuthe/pseuds/Malkuthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set three years after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2620928/chapters/5845100"><i>Uncertain as the Dawn</i></a>, things have changed dramatically in Camp Half-Blood. Will Solace is still in grieving for Nico di Angelo, but things are mostly looking up for the Greeks, other than, of course, the dead silence from Olympus. No gods, no matter how powerful, seem to have been able to pierce the veil surrounding Olympus. Hades and Poseidon are concerned for their brother but are unable to do anything. The deities stranded outside Olympus have taken temporary residence in the Theopolis, a floating city in the Sound, designed by Annabeth Chase and blessed by Athena, though its patron deity is Poseidon, as reparation for the Athens incident.</p><p>Three years to the day, Nico di Angelo returns, seemingly from the dead. On his heels is another looming threat, unlike any that Olympus has faced before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belonging to Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series belong to me. If you don't like male-on-male relationships, walk away now.
> 
> Alright. So. This is a more angsty variant of my SolAngelo fics. This is based on the headcanon that Will Solace is almost every bit as insecure as Nico di Angelo was. Also, whenever I write about these two, I imagine Nico as 17 and Will as 19. Just think of it as an AU where everyone was about three years older.

~~

_Out of the Night that covers me,_

_Black as the pit from pole to pole._

_I thank whatever gods may be,_

_For my unconquerable soul._

~~

The eighth of August was an inauspicious day. Comparatively, at least, to the celebration that had happened only a week earlier. The Feast of Spes. The Day of Hope. Over the last three years, it had also become a celebration of the defeat of Gaea.

To the unaware, it would have been just another day, but that wasn’t the case for the demigods of Camps Half-Blood and Jupiter, especially those that had been quite close friends with a particular son of Hades. For Will Solace, it was difficult to take the Feast of Spes to heart when he knew that only a mere seven days afterward, it would be the anniversary of Nico di Angelo’s disappearance.

After all this time, Nico’s disappearance still hurt Will as though the wounds had been made just yesterday. They were still deep. Inflamed. Stinging. Almost like the cuts that had peppered his arms the week after Nico had vanished. Those cuts were gone now. The scars they should have left were not there. The only proof that he had ever harmed himself in trying to reproduce the exquisite agony that Nico had left him as a last memory was a ghost of pain, fleeting and transient as a dream.

Will glared at the sky. His eyes bore onto the sun that shone brightly there, a brass disc set against gentle blue. Normally, Will loved feeling the sun on his skin, its radiance warming him. This was the one day of the year that he hated it.

This day of all days had every right and every reason to be gloomy and dark, but it had always just been bright, as though nothing had happened three years to the day ago. It was insulting. A slap to the face. It was, strangely enough, disheartening that such a melancholy day was always so filled with beauty.

On this particular day, Will tried his best to stay away from any of the newer campers. The year after Nico had disappeared, there had been a handful of new demigods that had come to the camp. August eighth that year, those same demigods had been just going about their daily business without a hint of sadness. Then, Will had heard something about the campers being sticks in the mud that day, and he had absolutely _lost_ it. The boy that had said it ended up confined to the infirmary for three days, where Will refused to touch him.

Will’s chest couldn’t help but ache. He stood a ways away from the beach, watching the speedboat from the Theopolis move away from the dock there and take off towards the camp. The bridge to the floating city was unfortunately still under construction. It was almost done, however. In just a few days’ time, Camp Half-Blood and the Greek equivalent of New Rome would be connected by something far more accessible than a fleet of three speedboats, plus a purple one that belonged to Jason Grace.

For today, and today only, however, all work had stopped on the bridge. The Hephaestus kids had their break. They were another group that Will had to avoid on this particular day. Truthfully, Will had to avoid everyone that had not directly known Nico. He did not want to be sending people to the infirmary because of injuries _he_ inflicted.

There was only one thing that made the day somewhat tolerable for the Seven. Leo had shown up the March following Nico’s disappearance. He’d appeared out of the blue, literally, with Calypso in tow, on a rebuilt Festus. It had been quite a shock for the camp. More surprising was how, bizarrely, Leo thought it had only been two weeks since the battle with Gaea. It had been rather difficult explaining to him that it had been well over half a year.

Nevertheless, they did not have very long to catch up, or do anything, truthfully. Leo and Calypso had taken off to explore the world after Leo had left behind the scrolls on the Archimedes spheres and taught his cabin-mates how to work and build them. No one really argued with Leo. He’d saved them all and deserved the vacation.

Still, the sadness over Nico’s absence hung around those that had known him like a heavy, stifling blanket. Will’s eyes swam with tears. He choked down a sob. The boat that was coming, the purple one, probably carried the Romans. The Praetors, and Hazel. The fact that they were on the purple speedboat meant that Jason was returning home with them. It wasn’t very much of a surprise. He’d gone to Camp Jupiter to work on the shrines and temples for ignored gods, but he, and Nico’s circle of friends, no matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, got together on the eight of August every year to find strength in numbers, like the gods during the Winter Solstice.

Will turned away, unable to watch as Percy, Annabeth, and Piper went up to greet the boat as it pulled back to the dock on the camp side of the sound. The Seven, minus Leo, had had their little gathering for the last three years. The first one, Will had understandably not been invited.

It wasn’t until they realized after the first gathering that he was beating himself up just as much as they were, if not more, for Nico’s disappearance, that he’d been invited. Unfortunately, it was only because Jason had found him in the Hades cabin, bloody and cut all over. He’d promptly healed himself, but the damage had been done. Jason Grace had seen him at his most vulnerable. Surprisingly enough, over the years, they’d become friends as well. Fortunately for Will, Jason knew well enough to leave him alone on this particular day.

~~

_In the fell clutch of circumstance,_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeonings of chance,_

_My head is bloody but unbowed._

~~

The second year, Will had been invited to mourn with the Seven, but he didn’t go. It had been too painful to be with them. Will had not yet forgotten their accusatory glares at him, especially Reyna’s, after the incident.

Will looked up at the Big House, unpleasant memories surfacing. He remembered taking Nico up to the infirmary. They had just been beginning to become friends. Then, Will’s cowardice had ruined everything for the two of them. The son of Apollo hung his head, tears watering the ground by his feet.

Alone, Will walked forlornly toward the Big House. That was where he stayed on the anniversary of Nico’s disappearance. At least until sunset. Before that he wouldn’t leave again until it was absolutely necessary. After sunset, it was the Hades cabin for him.

As Will walked down the hall into the infirmary, he fingered the trinket that was pinned onto the shirtpocket of his surgeon’s shirt. The little silver pin was the only concrete thing he had of Nico’s. It was only the only thing that kept him hoping that maybe someday he’d get to see the son of Hades again.

Will wondered if Nico would be filled with morbid curiosity at how much blood the silver trinket had already taken in. There were, after all, nights when Will couldn’t help but take the razor to himself and smear blood on the skull, hoping that maybe the blood offering would bring Nico back.

Nico had been, altogether, Will’s greatest triumph and greatest failure as a healer and as a friend. It was, for that reason, that he could not rid himself of his almost-disturbing obsession with Nico.

The silver pin had appeared inexplicably on the shroud that had been woven for him on that one quest he’d embarked on. He had not needed to ask if it had been the work of any unsavoury characters. Will knew that it had been Nico. He could feel it in his gut.

Since not even Hades could track down his son, this single little object was the only thing that kept Will hanging on to the possibility that maybe, one day, Nico would return to camp. Would return to him. Although, even just knowing Nico was around, even if he never wanted to talk to Will again, was alright.

Inside the infirmary, Will walked over to the bed in the corner to where he’d confined Nico for four days. This was the bed where he’d had his first real conversation with Nico. This was where they had first opened up somewhat to each other. This was where he’d laid bare his feelings of inadequacy, of his incapacity to fit in, and had received the same from Nico in return.

All these years later, Will regretted not listening to Nico’s wisdom those nights in the infirmary. Nico had been right. Fitting in was not the same as belonging. It only took too long for Will to realize it. The knowledge was bittersweet. He’d come to realize that he’d belonged in Camp Half-Blood all along. Nico was right. He wasn’t as inferior as he thought he was. Jason had helped him see that, too.

Will removed the pin from his shirt and set it on the bed beside him. The silver skull twinkled in the daylight, just like how Nico brightened, almost imperceptibly, whenever Will was around. Unfortunately, Will had never noticed it, far too absorbed with his fear of scaring Nico away and fucking things up. Funny how that went, he mused bitterly.

This was the only day of the year that Will removed the pin from his person. It was always on him in some capacity, unless he was in the shower. Even so, part of his daily, and after-shower ritual, was fastening the pin to whatever he was wearing.

Just as Will was about to bury his face in his hands, he heard a voice. It was wondrous. It was different, yes. It was hoarse, even. It was slightly deeper, richer, and truthfully, sent a tingle through Will’s spine. Nevertheless, as different as it was now, after three years, Will would have recognized it anywhere. Will counted to three, then pinched himself, wishing and hoping against hope that he was not dreaming. He wasn’t. Sure enough, from out of a shadow, an older, hotter, but rather more rugged-looking Nico di Angelo staggered into the infirmary.

~~

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears,_

_Looms but the horror of the shade._

_And yet, the menace of the years,_

_Finds and shall find me, unafraid._

~~

“Hey, Solace…” said Nico, breath hitching in his throat as he saw what the years had done to Will, in his absence. Will’s golden-hair had lost some of its lustre. There were dark circles under his eyes. He was not as painfully thin as Nico had been long ago, but he was still thin. Around him hung an air of weariness. Needless to say, all that vanished when Nico appeared. The radiant Will Solace that had been hiding under all that emotional baggage rose to the surface. “We really have to stop meeting like this,” rasped Nico.

Nico stumbled and fell to his knees, his entire body flickering as though it were a hologram from one of those numerous sci-fi films and shows. Nico shook with bitter derisive laughter. Will, on the other hand, was frozen where he sat, shocked. His eyes were wide, but there was a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

Then, all of a sudden, anger surged through Will’s veins. He jumped to his feet, very nearly knocking the silver pin off of the bed. He walked over to Nico and bodily dragged the son of Hades to his feet. “Three years, di Angelo! Three years!” shouted Will right in Nico’s face.

Nico laughed again. Had it really just been three years? It had felt so much longer than that to him. His laughter only served to further inflame Will’s anger. “Don’t you dare do that to me again, Nico!” Will screamed, voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

Nico didn’t even bother dodging preemptively when he saw the muscles of Will’s arm tense. The arm was drawn back, hand balled into a tight fist that went sailing right at Nico’s face. Only it didn’t quite hit.

“You’ll have to forgive me…” said Nico with a pained smirk. “I’m not entirely myself right now” he continued, bursting out laughing again as Will made a distressed sound and withdrew his hand from Nico’s incorporeal head. The laughter made Will even angrier.

“You… You _culo_!” shouted Will, who’d tried to learn Italian over the last three years in a vain, admittedly desperate attempt of connecting with the non-present Nico. It had not worked out the way he hoped, but at least he remembered the Italian word for butt. Will screamed inarticulately at Nico as his fist flew through the air and connected.

Nico crumpled to the floor, out cold. “Serves you right for making me—” Will choked. “For making everyone worry like that!” he yelled at Nico’s limp body, sprawled on the floor.

It didn’t take very long for it to dawn on him that he had just socked Nico right in the face. The son of Hades’ nose was bent at an awkward angle. Blood was trickling from both nostrils. The area around Nico’s eyes were already turning bruised and ugly. Will’s eyes very nearly bugged out of his head. He knelt down and worked his arms underneath Nico’s body. Considering how Nico seemed to have grown, he was surprised that it was as easy as ever, lifting him and carrying him, bridal-style, over to the bed.

Nico was heavier than he’d been three years ago, but still light for his age and how tall he’d become, though, as Will noted with a satisfied grunt, Nico was still shorter than him. Just tall enough to kiss on the forehead without having to tiptoe or raise his head too much. Gently, Will laid Nico on the bed, being careful not to set him on top of the pin.

Reverently, Will took the pin from the bed and set it on the bed-side table. Then, he turned his attention, to Nico. Nico had changed so much. His shirt was frayed at the hem, the patterns on it, grungy gray fleur-de-lis with skulls, were faded. His jeans were torn up and dusty, sooty.

Nico’s face was more mature. The angles that had been there long ago had deepened, become more apparent. Nico was more handsome. More masculine. Yet, somehow, he still retained his innocent, almost-angelic look about him. The son of Hades’ face had taken on just the right mixture of manly and youthful.

Seeing Nico like this, despite his broken nose and bloodied, bruising face, was miraculous. It made Will’s heart skip a beat. For the moment, Will was tempted to brush away a stray lock of dark hair that had fallen over Nico’s forehead. Will was tempted to caress Nico’s cheek, like he’d fantasize of doing enough times that he could play the scene in his head in vivid, almost-real quality. Then, he remembered that the son of Hades didn’t like being touched. He sighed and forced his hands, knuckles aching, to his thighs.

~~

_It matters not how straight the gate,_

_How changed with punishment the scroll._

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

~~

“Gods…” whispered Will, looking with wonder on Nico’s pale visage. It was almost unreal. It took almost all of his willpower not to touch the shaggy dark hair that pooled around Nico’s head. He had to pinch himself a second time. He even poked himself with the pin to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

Then Will noticed something strange about the drakon-skin cloak that Nico was wearing. It was ragged. It was torn in places. Upon closer inspection, it had faint reddish veins underneath the ‘skin.’ The whole thing seemed to be pulsing with life. It was stained with soot, save for one spot with two little, hard-to-see holes.

Will looked at the pin in his hands, that had drawn blood from him again. Then he looked back at the spot on the cloak that was strangely not as soot-stained as the rest of it. The spot was right underneath the cowl, sitting just a little off of Nico’s collarbone, if it had been resting on his shoulders as it should have been. It was the right size. But, Will tried to convince himself, it was not possible.

Hands shaking, Will pressed the pin against the spot. He felt a tug against his fingers. He gasped, trembling all over now, when he tried to pull the pin free, but found it fastened to the cloak instead. Will very nearly fell off the bed in surprise.

He had suspected it. Believed it in vain. Yet, here it was, proof that he had been correct. Nico _had_ come to camp sometime during the quest he’d embarked on a year and a half ago. How could no one remember something like that happening? It was very fishy. Will didn’t like what it implied.

Still shaky, Will crawled back to Nico’s side. It wouldn’t do for Nico to wake up with a black eye and a broken nose. That wouldn’t do at all. With a quick look around to make sure that no one was around to witness it, Will laid his hands on Nico’s face.

Will breathed deeply, then exhaled. Golden light began to shed from his fingers, in flecks and rays that danced on Nico’s skin. Will himself began to glow softly. The blood that had dripped down Nico’s lips and chin, instantly dried, broke up, fragmented, and dissolved into nothing.

Sickening sounds filled the air as Nico’s nose, that had been bent, moved slowly back into position, knitting itself, repairing itself, until it was just as it had been before Will had punched him. Nico was even more attractive now. The bruised skin around the son of Hades’ eye returned to his normal, pale complexion.

The light blinked once. Then twice. Then it sputtered and died. Will wanted to do more, but the shock of Nico’s sudden return had done a number on his concentration. Will couldn’t focus enough to even begin to try and wrench Nico back from fading.

Trembling, Will clambered off the bed and sat on the floor at its feet, his knees drawn up to his chest. His back was to Nico. His face was in his hands. He laughed. The sound that came out sounded like a deranged madman. He laughed until he couldn’t anymore.

Then, Will Solace started crying. He shook, and sobbed, and drew ragged breaths that made the bed itself tremble with his body. He’d just realized that he’d been given the second chance he’d been wishing for, for the past three years. The same wish that he’d spoken every time he felt that razor slice open his skin, drawing forth warm blood.

Will wiped the tears from his eyes. He wasn’t going to fuck up this time. He wasn’t going to let his own problems get in the way of his friendship with Nico. He was going to tell the son of Hades the truth of the fateful night that had torn them apart. He was going to confess how he felt for the Italian demigod. He would open his heart. He would lay himself bare and prostrate before Nico di Angelo, and hope that Nico would open his own heart to Will.

For the moment, though, there were other, more pressing matters for Will to be concerned with. The Seven, in particular. Those that remained of them, at least. Leo was still elsewhere. Will could not, in good conscience, allow them to wallow in misery while he planned out how to best take advantage of this, his second chance. Will could not begrudge them the knowledge that Nico had returned.

Will could only imagine the celebration. He’d never considered himself a part of that group of demigods. They were, frankly, intimidating. Jason tried to incorporate him, but honestly, he just didn’t feel quite at home among them.

The healer jumped to his feet, and ran out of the infirmary. He rapped his knuckles against Chiron’s door. There was a muffled response from inside. The centaur had faithfully kept trying to get through to Olympus in the days since Nico’s disappearance, but in vain.

Will knew that Chiron could use some good news for once. Will banged his fist on the door when there was no response from inside the room. “Nico’s back!” he shouted. The noise from within the office instantly fell dead silent. Instantly, there was dead silence from within the office.

The door swung open. There was an incredulous look in the centaur’s eyes, as well as an unmistakable sheen of relieved tears. Will was privy to the knowledge that part of the reason Chiron was trying to reach Olympus was to ask for help to discern Nico’s location. It had helped, these past years, to know that there was someone else that had not yet given up on Nico. “Go” said Will as Chiron tentatively placed a single hoof out of his office. “Go. He’s in the infirmary!” Chiron looked at Will, almost as though he didn’t want to believe.

“He’s right there” said Will, smiling warmly. Before dashing out of the Big House to tell everyone the good news, Will patted Chiron’s flank sympathetically.

\----------

Nico had not expected, that on the day of his return, he would be woken from a fist-induced slumber by the simultaneous, sharp inhalation of seven demigods. Well, there was that, and there was also the feeling of the bed dipping as Will sat on it beside him.

Nico cracked his eyes open and squinted in the relatively harsh afternoon sunlight. He blinked a few times, trying to get his vision to adjust to the brightness. When it did, he weakly raised his hand and grabbed hold of Will’s shoulder. The healer made a strangled noise of surprise at the sudden, unexpected contact.

Still bleary from his sleep, Nico faced the demigods, the friends, that he’d missed for the last three years. Truthfully, it had only been a year and a half for some of them, since he’d talked to Annabeth, Reyna, and Hazel, when he’d visited camp not too long ago. Somehow, he was pretty sure it didn’t count because none of those three had any recollection of such a visit taking place. In fact, they could not have had any recollection, judging by the looks of ecstatic, stunned surprise on their faces. Reyna was trying her best to look stoic, but it wasn’t really working out too well for her.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” asked Nico, weakly cracking a smile that made Will’s face light up like the rising sun. Nico’s heart fluttered in his chest, although it was far too drained to do anything like thump or gallop thunderously.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” considering how Nico was at the moment, on the cusp of fading, the smile on Will’s face partially melted away. He was still grinning stupidly, but the corners of his lips had drooped, and there was concern shining in his eyes.

Three years, Nico was gone. Three years. Apparently, Nico had learned the art of lame wordplay at entirely inappropriate times during that period. Will grimaced, but couldn’t help but smile again. At least the Nico that he’d come to know before they were unceremoniously separated was still there, somewhere. Will had been so deathly afraid that this Nico had changed beyond recognition. Thankfully, he had not. There was no question that Nico had changed profoundly, but to find a great part of the stubborn boy that he’d been three years ago was a great relief.

There was a moment of dead silence in the infirmary. Annabeth, Percy, Reyna, Piper, Jason, Hazel and Frank, along with Chiron, were standing in a half-circle about ten feet away from the foot of Nico’s bed. They really did look like they’d seen a ghost. Annabeth was pale as a sheet.

For all intents and purposes, even if they’d known he was not dead, they had thought he would never come back. Nico di Angelo could have showed up as a glowing spectre and they would not have been as surprised at how… _ordinary_ he seemed.

Three years of separation had done a number on how they perceived him as a friend and as a demigod. Since he’d been gone for so long, they had all expected that if he ever came back, it would be in more spectacular fashion.

Perhaps if they’d been there when Will punched him literally _through_ the head, their desire for something more exciting would have been fulfilled. The first one to break the silence was Hazel, who _shrieked_ like a raptor and ran at Nico, tackling him down to the bed with a vicious embrace and an incoherent babbling of things that sounded suspiciously like “I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” “father’s going to kill you, raise you from the dead, and kill you again,” and, “and if he doesn’t, I will!”

Piper, who, surprisingly enough, wasn’t standing by Jason, followed Hazel’s lead, screaming like a banshee as she ran at the son of Hades. Annabeth shrugged and decided to do the same. Well, mostly the same. She decided to forgo the screaming part. Nico was enjoying the attention for once. He’d been all alone for the better part of the last little while. It was refreshing to have other people.

Of course, something had to happen to ruin everything. Mostly, it was the eye-rollingly terrible bro-ness of Jason and Percy. They looked at each other before shouting, simultaneously, “Out of the way, ladies! Bro-hugs!”

Nico grimaced and buried himself deeper into the embrace of his female friends, face reddening a lot. He was sorely tempted to hit Percy and Jason over the heads with the hilt of his sword. Unfortunately, he knew he wouldn’t even be able to lift the Stygian Iron blade. Bro-hugs? Really? It was the most disgusting thing he’d heard in a long while.

Unfortunately, the three girls parted, giggling, and allowed Nico to get picked up by the two other sons of the Big Three. Nico glared daggers playfully at the girls for the betrayal. It only made them giggle even more. Frank was standing awkwardly to one side. Nico looked at him. He waved shyly at Nico. Percy, on the other hand, yelled at him to not be such a stick in the mud.

Tentatively, Frank approached, wary of Percy and Jason. Then, the two of them pulled him mercilessly into the boys’ group-hug. “Uh… Glad to see you’re… uh… alive… and uh… well… uh… flower-boy” stammered Frank. “Sorry, I’m not good at this kind of thing” he said, stumbling away from the hug and taking his place back by Reyna’s side.

Reyna looked at Chiron and rolled her eyes. The centaur shrugged. There was one thing that Chiron had figured out long ago. Teenage heroes, as noble as they were sometimes, could get quite obnoxious. Percy Jackson and Jason Grace, especially so, being children of the Big Three. Chiron, of all people, would be the last to deny that, after literally spending thousands of years in immortality, training demigods.

There was an uncomfortable silence when Jason pushed his face into the crook of Nico’s neck. He’d not been able to control himself. Will frowned. He and Jason had gone through quite a bit together, but he was tempted to pick Jason by the scruff of the neck, and tell him to back off of _his_ man, though he wasn’t entirely sure how Nico would react to that.

Nico squirmed in discomfort. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again” whispered Jason. There was a dull pain behind Piper’s eyes, but it went away quickly enough for Nico to not notice.

Nico smiled at Jason, but pushed his head away. “I was always planning to come back…” he said. “You shouldn’t worry too much about me,” he continued, nudging Percy in the side. “I’m the most powerful child of the Big Three after all” he said jokingly.

Nico was abruptly dropped on the bed. Will made a sound of discontentment at the rough treatment of his patient, but Nico looked at him reassuringly. Then, simultaneously, Jason and Percy said, “No, _I_ am!”

Reyna was fed up with the two. She walked up to Jason and Percy and shoved them apart. The praetor walked through the space in between them and gripped Nico’s forearm. The son of Hades returned the gesture. Then, he pulled her in, with surprising strength for his weakened state. Reyna staggered, and Nico wrapped his arms around her.

“Glad to be home…” said Nico, bringing tears to Reyna’s eyes. The scene reminded her of that night before the campfire when she had publicly endorsed Nico’s presence in both camps with a hug much like this one. Nico was, suffice to say, surprised at the feeling of tears splashing against his shoulder. He was even more startled when Reyna reached across the bed and pulled Will into the hug.

Nico heard a gasp and a giggle from Piper. Then, Percy and Jason took it as an invitation to pile onto the bed for a group-hug. Everyone else followed suit. It took Frank a moment, but he decided to join in. He felt like it was the right thing to do. That, and he truly was happy that Nico had returned.

Neither Nico nor Reyna were complaining. Will wasn’t about to pull away from the group either. For the first time, he felt truly forgiven.

Will truly felt like he belonged in the group. When they all pulled apart, they had to wipe tears from their eyes, even though Will stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he’d been crying. When Nico raised an eyebrow at him, the son of Apollo punched Nico playfully in the arm. “I just had something in my eyes, di Angelo.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Right. “I think it was your stink,” teased Will. Everyone broke into light-hearted laughter. It was such a change of pace, given the hardships that Nico had endured, he couldn’t help but smile even broader. Then, Chiron cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him, stunned. They’d forgotten he was even still there.

For a moment, his expression was stern, but then his face brightened, joyful and relieved. The centaur approached the bed and hugged Nico. At first, he failed, his arms passing right through the son of Hades, much to the alarm of the others, especially Reyna. Chiron didn’t give up. He tried again, this time managing to catch Nico into a bone-crushing embrace.

“Thanks, Chiron…” said Nico, smiling. There was a hint of pain and guilt behind the smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, softer than anyone else could hear.

Chiron set Nico back down and wiped his eyes. The day was truly momentous. It had been so melancholy for the camp in past years, but now it was to be a day of celebration. In one of his rare moments of absolute jubilation, Chiron understood his more rowdy cousins. He wanted to gallop out of the infirmary and throw the biggest party the camp had ever seen. He’d wanted to do the same when Leo returned, but the son of Hephaestus had not stayed long.

Given that his only son had returned, Chiron was certain that Lord Hades would have no reservations when it came to expenses, just to celebrate his son’s return. “As much as I appreciate all the love…” said Nico, blushing slightly, much to the amusement of everyone, save for Will, whose breath hitched in his throat, seeing the pink stain on Nico’s cheeks.

“After this, no more touching except for very special occasions, alright?” he asked. Well, it was more a thinly-veiled threat of violence against anyone that dared touch him without his permission, but no one could fault Nico. They all laughed lightheartedly, and it brought a smile to Nico’s face. Seeing that, it all made Will’s heart skip a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there my dear readers. Here we stand again at the junction of a new adventure. Strap yourselves in, because this is going to be one _hell_ of a ride. If you thought the angst in _Uncertain as the Dawn _was bad, you're in for a whole other world of hurt.__
> 
> __Sure, these first couple of chapters will be introducing you to everything that's happened so far since we last saw our heroes, but not everything is as well as it seems, and darker times are on the horizon. For now, though, enjoy your happiness. It might be the last you'll get in a while._ _
> 
> __I'd like to hear your thoughts! Comment! As always! Or I will actually sincerely put in a scene of Will doing self-harm in this one. Leave a kudos if you like what you see so far._ _
> 
> __There won't be an update this upcoming Tuesday since I have finals, but feel free to ask me questions about what's in this chapter so far on my tumblr at[Malkuthe Highwind!](http://malkuthe-highwind.tumblr.com/ask)_ _
> 
> __The centred, italicized words between the double tildes (~~) are from a poem called Invictus, by William Ernest Henley, and are not mine._ _


	2. A Poisoned Well

Of course, just as everything was starting to look up, as was often the case when the Fates were involved, things started going wrong all over again. Nico swayed from side to side where he sat on the bed. He felt rather woozy. Reyna rushed to his side and gently lowered him onto the bed. The Praetor frowned. “I suppose we shouldn’t have been so enthusiastic…” said Reyna. “It’s just been so long…” she continued, sheepishly. Nico chuckled weakly as he felt her weight dip the side of the bed opposite of Will.

Nico smiled warmly at Reyna. He appreciated her support. He could feel her strength flowing into him, but all it managed to do was keep the crippling exhaustion at bay. Nico turned his head to face Will. The healer was looking at Nico with heavy eyes filled with concern. Behind that veneer of professionalism was a burning desire that Will had to use all of his willpower to suppress. He didn’t want to scare Nico away.

Will frowned, then met Nico’s gaze. The meaning behind the look was clear. Nico wondered when the two of them had become so in-sync that they could tell what the other was meaning just by a glance. Nico nodded. Will grabbed his hand.

Almost as though it was by Will’s doing, the entirety of Nico’s body flickering into misty gray shade-form for an instant, then back to normal. Will shook his head in disbelief. “Nico, how much Underworld magic have you been using again?”

Will’s voice was soft and incredulous. “This is…” he said, rubbing his thumb tenderly in circles over the back of Nico’s hand. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am…” said Will, shaking his head again. He was honestly dumbstruck by the predicament that Nico was currently in.

“This is worse than last time!” he exclaimed, drawing a pained sound from Reyna, Annabeth, and, surprisingly, Jason. “I didn’t think you could be doing anything worse than shadow-travelling a forty-foot tall statue of a vengeful asshole goddess—” Will grimaced, then looked apologetically at Annabeth who waved her hand dismissively “—across half the fucking globe.”

Hazel couldn’t help but fan herself at the use of profanity. Frank frowned, trying his best to keep a stoic face. It was always hilarious, seeing Hazel react to people cursing. “Somehow you did…” said Will, morbid wonder and fascination in his voice.

Will frowned. When Nico pulled back his hand, Will made a small sound of consternation, but made no move to take it back. It had been long enough. Will could tell by the discomfort on Nico’s face. Will blinked. Was that a blush on Nico’s cheeks?

The son of Apollo shook his head. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by those things. Not now. He needed to take care of Nico. Will rubbed his hands together and tried to summon his healing light. His palms warmed considerably. Okay. He was able to concentrate better now.

Will turned to the demigods gathered. “Leave us,” he commanded. “I’ll take care of him” said Will, looking at Nico. Nico nodded at everyone else. He understood why Will wanted them to leave, though he’d been hoping that it would not have to come to this. Nico knew that if Will was meaning to use his light, that normal healing methods would not stand a chance of working at bringing him back from the brink of fading. He’d gone too close to the edge this time.

None of the demigods moved. Some of them actually looked with outraged expressions at Will. The son of Apollo felt a twinge of anger that they still didn’t trust him with Nico, after all they’d witnessed to prove his genuine distress about the whole disaster that had led to this point in time. In truth, though, Will couldn’t blame them. It was all his fault to begin with anyway.

“Alright” said Will with a sigh. His eyebrows knotted together. It wouldn’t do to just have them watch. He needed them to promise him something. This was a secret that he’d kept for three years. He wasn’t ready for it to get out. “You all have to swear on the River Styx that whatever you see, you will not inform anyone else of unless I allow it.”

“Hey!” said Percy, stepping forward. Nico would have yelled at Percy to shut up before he did anything stupid, but his voice failed him. Fortunately, Annabeth was on it. “That’s not fair! What do you mea—!” Percy yelled in agony. Annabeth had stepped on his foot. Quite hard, too.

“Shut up, seaweed brain,” said Annabeth. She was genuinely curious, but even she thought that swearing on the Styx was rather overkill. “I need to think about this, so be quiet.”

Needless to say, Will refused to do anything before the oaths were taken. Reyna was starting to get angry. Nico needed the help. Why couldn’t the others just swear and get it all over with. “Fine” growled the Praetor, hand shooting out to grab Will by the collar of his shirt.

Reyna was surprised when she felt Nico’s hand touch her arm lightly. She looked at the son of Hades. Nico shook his head. “Tell me the words” she said, as she let go of Will’s shirt. The healer adjusted his clothing, then launched into the wording of the oath.

It was foolproof. Even if they wanted to, the demigods would not be able to tell anyone of anything they witnessed unless Will decided that they could. Nico had to wonder where Will had gotten the wording from. It was almost identical to the words he’d used on people in the three years they’d been apart.

Nico had learned the words from his father, and Hades had insisted that only he knew the proper formula. Could Will have…? Mused Nico, unable to finish the absurd thought. No. The very thought of Hades teaching a son of Apollo’s _anything_ was ridiculous to begin with. The wording of a foolproof non-disclosure oath was ludicrous.

Will listened as first Reyna, then Annabeth, then Jason, then everyone else solemnly took their oaths. He nodded, satisfied, then looked at Nico. “Stay here,” he said, walking over to a corner of the infirmary. Nico’s head swiveled to follow Will. Everyone else was fixated on Nico, as his body flickered like a bad hologram.

When Will returned, he uncovered what he’d retrieved from the safe. It was a small white mouse that looked as though it was in suspended animation. It was. Will blew across the little critter, and Mist stripped itself from the mouse’s body, bringing it back to life. For a little while, at least. The suspended animation had been a trick of Lou Ellen’s, though Will still hadn’t explained to her why exactly he’d needed mice in such a state of suspended life.

The rodent wriggled in Will’s hand, but it was otherwise mostly calm. Will was making sure of that. He’d come to realize that he had a calming touch. It had been a latent power, awakened when Nico had stayed over at the infirmary. Will placed the mouse on Nico’s chest.

Nico was somewhat perturbed by the feeling of a small rodent on his chest. It was moving around, albeit sluggishly. The mouse’s little feet tickled. Nico had to resist brushing the damn little thing off. “I spent a long while with Lord Hades in the Theopolis…” said Will with a grimace.

Nico didn’t blame Will. His father could be _somewhat_ abrasive. After a pause to make sure the mouse was not being too active, Will continued. “Lord Hades and I worked on figuring out how to best take care of something like what happened to Nico after the war.”

Will moved his hand over Nico’s head, fingers spread apart. His palm radiated a heat, for Nico, that traveled up his chin, over his cheeks, and up to his forehead. “We figured out that the fading was something of a disease, something like a fever caused by exhaustion…”

The demigods and Chiron nodded in understanding as Will’s hands, and the heat that came with them, moved down Nico’s body. Will tried to pinpoint the centres of the swirling energy in Nico. Unfortunately, they were in flux. He couldn’t pin them down, but that was exactly what he’d been expecting.

“So,” Will said, stopping momentarily as he wiped his brow the back of one arm. He was profusely sweating. The warmth that had accompanied Will’s hands, however, continued moving up and down Nico’s torso, even when Will was no longer moving his hands. Will sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.

Will returned his hands to the circling motion. The warmth that Nico was feeling somewhere _inside_ intensified. Then, Will pushed his hands down towards Nico’s stomach. Nico shivered, back arching off of the bed involuntarily. Both Nico’s belly and Will’s hands stopped about an inch apart.

Nico closed his eyes, lips parted slightly as he felt a pulse of power flow through him. A small sound escaped his lips. Nico turned scarlet that they should be seeing him like this. Perhaps he should have insisted more that he and Will be left in private, but there was no taking back what had already come to pass.

Something shifted _somewhere_ in Nico. Something inside of him, so deep he had not even realized it existed, _aligned_. The sensation was difficult to put into words. It was as though a knot of tension in his stomach that he’d not known existed suddenly untied itself.

Nico’s eyelids fluttered open. Will grunted. This was taking every bit of his willpower, every bit of his strength. Nico was certain he was being delirious, but Will was starting to glow dimly with golden light.

Will repeated the strange motions and pushed down again. This time, it was over Nico’s chest. Nico’s back rose off the bed to meet the hands once more. Another pulse of magic raced through Nico’s body. The son of Hades could see his half-sister shiver where she was standing off to one side. She could feel the magic.

Annabeth, on the other hand, had a strange look on her face, and a twinkle in her eyes that told Nico that she had a good idea of what Will was doing. Nico still hadn’t figured it out, but given that it was Will doing this, and Annabeth did not look worried, he felt okay not panicking.

Will pushed a third time. This time, the ripple of power was felt by everyone gathered. Will’s sweat dripped onto the bed. Nico felt his entire body lift off of the bed, but when Will took away his hands, clutching his knees and panting, the feeling of floating did not go away.

The only indication Nico got that there was anything wrong, was the collective gasp from his friends. Reyna’s eyes were blazing. She was absolutely furious. “What have you done to him?” she demanded, looking like she was ready to lunge across the bed at the healer.

Annabeth held Reyna back with a gentle touch. Then she pointed at Nico’s chest. For the first time, Nico actually took a look at his body, and almost lost whatever little breakfast he’d managed to scrounge up earlier that day. His whole body was that of a shade’s, save for a patch on his chest where the mouse was rolling around.

“When there is poison in the well…” said Will, using the same analogy that Hades had used once they discovered Will’s ability to control diseases. “You draw it out. Then you cleanse it.”

Will stretched his arms along Nico’s body. The palm of his left hand hovered just above Nico’s forehead, making heat pool uncomfortably there. The palm of his left was just above Nico’s calves. The heat there was barely tolerable. Will brought his hands together, clapping them shut right on top of the mouse.

The sound was deafening. Hazel covered her ears. Frank grimaced. Percy squeaked. Jason watched unflinching, like Reyna. Piper squeezed Annabeth’s arm. Annabeth watched, fascinated. Why the sound was so loud, Nico could not tell. It was puzzling. Baffling, even, considering that Will had closed his hands so slowly.

Suddenly, Will jerked his hands upwards, and Nico felt searing hot pain blossom throughout his entire body. His entire body arched off the bed. His jaw locked. His face contorted in a silent scream of agony. The image was made even more disturbing by the mouse that was convulsing and squeaking so piteously on his chest.

“No…” whispered Will as Nico fell back to the bed, gasping for air, when the pain rushed out of him. “No… The mouse… It can’t contain it” panted Will, his arms locked into position. The mouse was hovering a good three inches off of Nico. It was twisting, and squirming, and squealing with such agony that it made Nico blanch. Even Reyna looked like she was about to be sick. “I’m going to have to put it back in Nico…” said Will, sweating and straining, trying to contain the ‘fade’ as they’d elected to call it.

“No!” shouted everyone else, simultaneously, just as the mouse squealed one last time, before exploding into wisps of oily black mist. Nico was still in shock. He rolled onto his side, trying his best not to heave. “You can’t put that back in him! It will kill him!” said Reyna.

“Well what do you propose we do about it?” demanded Will through gritted teeth. Blood was already trickling down his nose. His entire body felt uncomfortably hot. Light was shedding from his skin. “I can’t hold it forever. If I let it go, gods know what it would do to us!”

Hazel stepped forward bravely. “I’ll do it” she said, the apprehension clear in her voice, but overcome by the sheer determination that burned in her eyes. Jason stepped in front of her and shook his head. Nico was thankful. He didn’t want Hazel hurt on his account.

“Get out of the way, Jason!” Hazel shouted, shoving the _pontifex_ out of the way. “I owe Nico this second life. It’s only right that I save him” she said. She looked at Frank sadly, then placed a quick kiss on his lips, that turned both of them scarlet.

“Will” said Hazel, nodding at Will. Nico wanted to scream ‘no!’ but his voice failed him. It was stuck in his throat. Will looked at Reyna. Reyna wasn’t pleased, but she lent her strength to Will as well, looked at Hazel, and nodded. It had to be done.

The orb of darkness that represented what was ailing Nico hovered painfully slow through the air before passing into Hazel’s stomach. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Hazel’s eyes popped open. Her mouth opened impossibly wide. She started screaming, the sound so blood-curdling, it made Nico want to vanish all over again.

“It’s not going to work” said Will. “It’s not going to be enough” Hazel’s eyes were glittering with tears. Her nostrils were streaming blood like Will’s. It was difficult to try and contain the pain associated with Nico’s ailment within her.

“Split it if you can” said Frank, demeanour entirely different from what it had been mere moments ago. He was determined. His gaze and his posture was steely. “I’ll take half of her burden” he said, reaching down and taking Hazel’s hand in his own. She instinctively balled a fist, nails digging deep bloody gouges in Frank’s palm. “Do it!” he shouted.

Will, with considerable concentration, was able to split the fade in half. The moment it entered Frank, his eyes bugged out, his entire body went slack, and he slumped to the floor, twitching. “Divide it as much as you can and let all of us take on some of it” said Reyna, thinking on her feet and trying to channel her strength into Hazel and Frank.

Will nodded at her. Percy, Piper, Jason, Annabeth, and even Chiron, looked determined to try and help. With a roar from the effort, Will tore apart the fade and channeled it into everyone, including himself.

Then, since it had been portioned out in such small parts, the pain was only mind-numbing. It took a minute or two, but eventually, each demigod’s natural strength was able to overcome the underworld-ly affliction. By the end of the ordeal, they were all gasping for breath.

Frank came to as Nico rolled back over onto his back, the agony having ended. Will felt like he was in the heart of a blast furnace. He felt so hot. He tugged at his collar, trying to cool off. Nico, on the other hand, was having a much easier time breathing, now, but he was sobbing uncontrollably.

“Hazel…” Nico called out weakly. The daughter of Pluto staggered to her feet, shaken, and stumbled over to Nico’s side. Her half-brother tried to raise a hand, but couldn’t. “Hazel…” he said again, remorse clear in his voice.

“Nico…” she said, in response, grabbing the hand that Nico was trying to raise and bringing it to her cheek to nuzzle. “Nico, it’s alright…” she said, choking up. There was a watery sheen to her eyes. “I…” she started, but did not know how to end. “I didn’t know… I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that…” croaked Nico. Somehow, he knew that she had experienced the full brunt of his pain. Hands shaking from the effort, he brushed a lock of her curly hair behind her ear and started uncontrollably crying. “No one should ever have to…”

Reyna was crying, too. The pain she’d felt from Nico all those years ago was nothing compared to this. It was sharp. It pierced straight through the bone. Her knees felt like jelly, but she knew she had to be strong. Reyna found Nico’s other hand, and squeezed like it was the only thing keeping Nico alive.

There was a hoarse groan from the side of the bed that Will was on. Nico’s head slowly swiveled to look. He was just in time to witness Will’s eyes roll up into his head. Fortunately, Jason was fast enough to prevent the healer from falling off the bed.

The tenderness with which Jason carried Will to the next bed over was puzzling, but Nico decided not to pursue the matter. Not that he could, anyway. “I’ll keep watch” said Jason, the words directed at Chiron. The old centaur nodded.

“Come on,” he told the demigods. “Let’s let them rest. In the meantime, we can prepare for a feast tonight.” Chiron wasn’t sure how wise it would be to celebrate, seeing how Nico was ill-disposed at the moment, but he was of the opinion that postponing festivities was only inviting misfortune.

Reyna opened her mouth to object, but Nico squeezed her hand. She looked at him, then at Jason. Jason nodded at her in reassurance. The praetor seemed rather conflicted about leaving Nico, but she decided it was for the best. She leaned down and kissed him on the temple. Hazel hugged Nico.

Percy threw his arm, trembling, around Annabeth. “We’ll see you later, Nico” he said, though the hint of fear and guilt was palpable in his voice. Annabeth nodded wordlessly and followed Reyna out of the infirmary.

Piper looked at Jason. Jason looked at her. Nico could almost see the silent conversation taking place, though he was not privy to what it was about. Piper then turned her eyes to Nico, and for the first time, he noticed that her cheeks were wet. “We’ll talk soon, right?” she ventured to ask. “Yeah, we will” she finished, making it clear that Nico wasn’t getting out of having a heart-to-heart with her.

Nico was far too tired to protest. Before Chiron had even left on the tail of the other demigods, his eyelids, which felt leaden, started to drift shut. He struggled to stay awake. “Jason…” he whispered.

“Shh…” said the son of Jupiter as Nico felt the bed get depressed where Jason sat down. “Shh…” cooed Jason. “It’s alright…” he reassured Nico. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here until you guys wake up. Everything’s just going to be fine…”

\----------

Will was the first to wake up. He was at first absolutely disorientated. He couldn’t figure out why he was lying down on a bed, in the infirmary, at around sunset. He turned on his side, where he could feel that someone was sitting on the bed. “Will…” said Jason, voice soft, almost tentative.

“Jason” said Will, smiling brightly at the son of Jupiter, even if every part of him ached with exquisite exhaustion. Jason rolled his eyes and leaned over Will, placing a kiss on the son of Apollo’s forehead. “I had the strangest dream…” said Will, trailing off. “Nico was b—” Will immediately choked on his words when he saw Nico on the other bed.

“Oh” he said, voice cracking. “Jason…” Will looked up at Jason, whose bright blue eyes were staring down at him, evidently wet. “Jason…” repeated Will, hand finding Jason’s arm and squeezing _really_ hard.

“It wasn’t a dream!” said Will, excitement creeping into his voice. Will shook Jason’s arm. “It wasn’t a dream!” he repeated, this time more muted. He didn’t want to wake Nico unnecessarily. He didn’t need to lay his hands on the son of Hades at all. He could already tell from the way Nico was sleeping that Nico was extremely tired.

Will was, too, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He tried to sit up, but Jason pushed him back down on the bed. “You’re not getting up until you’ve had some ambrosia and nectar, Will,” said Jason, firmly.

The son of Jupiter walked off to get ambrosia and nectar for Will. Still in a bit of a daze, Will just nodded. His eyes were trained fully on Nico. He wanted to reach out and touch Nico, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to reach the other demigod.

Jason returned and shoved a small square of ambrosia at Will. He set a plastic cup about a third full of nectar on the bed-side table. “So…” said Jason, looking in the same direction that Will was looking. “I suppose you won’t need me anymore…”

Will almost choked on the ambrosia. He angrily chewed on it and gulped it down. There was one thing he would never admit to anyone, even Jason, or even Nico, no matter how much they pestered him: ever since a day of weakness about two years ago, ambrosia had always tasted, somewhat, of Jason’s cum.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Jason?” demanded Will, after he’d swallowed the nectar. Will frowned, then turned his gaze from Nico back to Jason. The son of Jupiter’s electric-blue eyes were looking at him with an earnestness that made him almost instantly regret snapping.

Will made a sound, remembering that day of weakness, and the handful of other nights of weakness that had followed from it. The feeling of Jason’s lips suckling the tender flesh of his neck… Will shook his head to rip himself from the vivid memories.

“I mean…” said Jason, drawing a deep breath. “I mean we can’t continue doing what we were doing…” That Jason didn’t even want to acknowledge what had happened between Will and himself by calling it what it was: a technically not-illicit affair.

“You had a girlfriend, Jason!” hissed Will. “And I…” the son of Apollo looked over to the other bed. “I’m in love with someone else.” The bitter smile on Jason’s face made it clear just what his thoughts actually were.

“So am I…” whispered Jason, his bluish eyes fixed on Nico as well. “I think, those years ago, some small part of me fell in love with Nico, too.” Jason laughed, the sound bitter, and almost-artificial. “I wanted things to work out between Piper and me. I really did.”

“I didn’t care that there was some small part of me that was sort-of attracted to Nico. The much larger part of me was in love with Piper” confessed Jason. “I _really_ thought that she was the one” he continued, voice no louder than a whisper.

Will didn’t know whether to pat Jason’s arm comfortingly or to kick him out for admitting he might very well become competition for Nico’s affections. “But as the years went by, you realized it wasn’t really working out, blah blah blah” said Will, rolling his eyes. He’d heard the story again and again already by this point.

Jason looked hurt at how Will dismissed his issues. “Hey, I’m not saying that your problems are nothing…” said Will. “It’s just…” Will tried to crack a smile. It came out as more of a grimace. “It’s just that you’ve said everything you were about to say already, about a hundred times before.” Jason scowled at Will, but realized that the healer was correct.

Why did he keep telling that story anyway? Probably to justify to himself that he’d put in his best effort with his relationship with Piper, and that breaking things off had been the right thing to do. “You’re right…” said Jason. “Of course, you’re right…” he repeated, with a sigh.

Will looked at Nico. The son of Hades was still sleeping soundly. “Okay, Jason” he said, firmly. “Let’s talk.” Jason frowned. He looked apprehensive. “Be honest with me, okay?” said Will, gently. He didn’t want to cause too much of a ruckus. “Why did you really break up with Piper?”

Jason was about to say something when Will cut him off. “I’ve been listening. I really have, Jason. But. All you tell me is that it didn’t work out. _Why_ didn’t it work out? _What_ happened?” asked the healer, genuinely curious. He’d wondered for the longest time. He didn’t want to think it was because of him.

“Honestly?” said Jason, voice trembling. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. Then he leaned down and kissed Will on the lips. “I may have fallen in love with someone else, too,” said Jason, rubbing his eyes clear when he drew himself back.

Will was stunned into silence. His entire face was beet-red, much like Jason’s. It hadn’t happened like this before. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They only ever did that _thing_ they did whenever they were feeling like their respective burdens were too heavy to bear. “Me?” squeaked Will.

“You’re unbelievably dense, aren’t you, Solace?” noted Jason with a bitter smile. “Yeah, yeah, you’re in love with someone else…” he said Jason, eyebrows knitting together. “I… Seeing him again… I think I really am, too” he admitted. “Gods, what have I gotten myself into?” groaned Jason, burying his face in his hands.

Will still didn’t know what to say. “Wait, so you…” He didn’t know exactly how to put his question in the most tasteful manner. He didn’t even know if it was possible to do that. “So, you’ve fallen for me _and_ Nico?” he asked, quietly.

“Fucked up, huh?” said Jason bitterly. A minute of awkward, pregnant silence settled between the two demigods. Then Jason looked at Will, eyes wet. “I am so… so confused, Will” lamented the son of Jupiter. “I don’t know why I’m feeling these kinds of things for two different people. It’s fucked up…”

Will frowned. He had to admit that maybe some part of him had also fallen in love with Jason, too, but the greater portion of his person was devoted to someone else. He couldn’t give to Jason what Jason probably wanted, and he felt indescribably guilty about that. He felt like he’d used Jason to tide himself over difficult times. Now he was abandoning Jason to be with the person that he’d always wanted to be. It made him feel dirty. It was difficult, to say the least, to see Jason like this. Seeing the son of Jupiter, so strong, being so vulnerable, was an eye-opening reminder that everyone was haunted by their own demons.

Will placed a hand gently on Jason’s arm, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position with his other arm. “There’s nothing wrong with poly-amory” said Will. “But… I don’t know if I can reciprocate…”

Jason looked at Will, his electric blue eyes meeting Will’s soft ones. There was a guilt and uncertainty swimming behind Jason’s gaze that left Will entirely unsettled. “Jason…” whispered the son of Apollo. “Are you, you know…?” Will breathed deeply. “Are you… gay?”

Jason looked mortified. Then he looked confused. Then distressed. Will felt bad for breaching the topic, but from the way that Jason was looking, Will was fairly certain that it was a necessary topic to think about for the son of Jupiter. “I…” said Jason, in an almost-panicky voice. “I don’t think so…”

“But you…” Will turned red. There was a stirring in his loins. The feeling of Jason thrusting against him was foremost in his memories. “You and I we…” He couldn’t get the word out. He looked over at Nico with worry. Nico was still sleeping. Soundly. He turned back to Jason.

“You and I had sex…” whispered Will, voice laced with a tinge of amazement. Jason’s eyes widened. Pink crept up his face. “You literally _just_ admitted that you’re in love with me. That you’re in love with Nico, too…” Will shook his head from side to side. “You’re telling me you don’t prefer guys?”

“No…” said Jason after thinking for a moment. No, he really didn’t prefer guys. He just… His _heart_ just didn’t seem to care what the gender of the person was. “I didn’t have sex with you because you were a guy… I didn’t fall in love with you because you were a guy…”

Jason breathed. He couldn’t believe that he was admitting this, but he had seen what happened to Will and Nico. He didn’t want to make the same mistake, though he was pretty sure Will wouldn’t vanish on him for three years. If there was something that he wanted to say, something he had to say, he needed to say it before it was far too late. “I fell in love with you because you were there for me…” he admitted. Will’s breath caught in his throat and he choked back a pitiful sound.

“You know what?” asked Jason, summoning what little strength and integrity remained in his body. He looked Will in the eyes, determined. “I love you enough to want to see you happy” he said. “You and Nico… You’re good for each other. You understand each other. I don’t think I’ll ever understand you fully, Will.”

The words hurt both of the demigods. Will’s heart ached in his chest. Jason felt like he was twisting a dagger thrust into his own heart. “Besides,” said Jason. “If what I felt for Piper, which was _really_ strong faded after a little while, maybe this will, too.”

Jason leaned over across the bed and patted Will on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me” he said, looking meaningfully at Nico. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive” he continued. “Nico, on the other hand…” he said, with genuine fear. “I can tell you’re not so sure.”

Will’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. He didn’t know how to respond. “Jason…” he began. He didn’t know how to end. “No, I’m not sure. I tried my best, but only time can tell if he survives this…” Will frowned. “Did you feel the pain?”

That was a stupid question. Of course Jason had felt the pain associated with Nico’s fading. It was terrifying. It had almost made Jason want to give up living. And yet, it had only been a fraction, what he’d experienced, of what was undoubtedly a fraction of the terrible things that Nico had experienced.

Jason nodded. “But Jason…” said Will. “You… I’m… Maybe… I kinda… Nevermind… I’m sorry.” Will’s voice faltered. “I love Nico” he finished. He’d said enough. Jason looked at him with such a pained expression that Will couldn’t help but feel terrible. He’d chosen Nico over Jason, the one that had been there to help him deal with his darkest moments. Nevertheless, Jason couldn’t blame Will. There was something about Nico that made him just… lovable.

“I know” said Jason, leaning forward and placing another kiss on Will’s lips. “That’s going to be the last one, I suppose” he said. Will brought two fingers to his lips, that were tingling from the sensation of Jason kissing him a second time. “Take care of him, alright? Make sure he survives” said the son of Jupiter, looking over at where Nico was sleeping like a brick.

“I will, Jason” croaked Will weakly. Why did things have to be so complicated? Will sighed. He just had to go and make things even more difficult than they should have been. “More than anything, I’ll take care of him,” said Will, promising more to himself than to Jason, but he felt punched in the gut when he saw Jason’s expression.

Jason looked into Will’s eyes, and remembered, for a brief moment, the words of wisdom that Cupid had imparted on Nico di Angelo all those years ago, in Salona. _“I wouldn’t say Love always makes you happy. Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad. But at least you’ve_ faced _it now. That’s the only way to conquer me.”_

Jason choked back a sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there readers! Stealth update! I was feeling rather generous so I decided to update early. Don't worry. There'll be a chapter on Saturday as well!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really enjoyed writing it. I'll explore what Nico thinks of Hazel's self-sacrifice for him in a later chapter, but things are happening too fast for him right now to make any room for introspection. In this chapter, we also got our first look at what's actually going on with Jason in relation to Will and Nico. I'd like to hear your thoughts on everything that happened here. It would be great. <3.
> 
> Quick note on things involved in the chapter though:  
> 1.) On the whole Will Solace/Jason Grace thing, I sort of expand on that topic in an article on my blog: [Explaining WilSon in the Dawn-verse](http://malkuthe-highwind.tumblr.com/post/104680334167/fuck-physics-finals-and-explaining-wilson-in-the).
> 
> 2.) Part of the reason that I chose to take Jason's character in this direction is because as a writer, I do like to tackle social issues, and while in the West, the acceptance of alternative sexualities/gender expressions/gender identities has become far more widespread, there is something that still comes with a very large social stigma: that is, polyamory. I hope to expand on my views on the matter as I write Dawn!Jason out as a character.
> 
> Anyway. As usual, if you have any questions for me, feel free to ask them! Even personal ones! I'm very open to answering questions rather honestly, so long as they're not far too risque. Drop me an ask over on my Tumblr at [Malkuthe Highwind!](http://malkuthe-highwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	3. Rebound

_It was a rather cold and dreary day in Cardiff. Nico could not have chosen a worse time to come to Wales, but he had had no choice. There were… things that he had to take care of. He did not like the facts of what he was expected to do, but he had no choice._

_Well, truthfully, he had a choice. It was between coming to Wales and seeking out gods that were foreign to him, in order to ask for their power, no matter the price, to prevent another war, or leaving Camp Half-Blood and all the people he cared about to fight another conflict that would probably spell the end of the camp._

_Now that he was thinking about it, Nico couldn’t help but conclude that it wasn’t really much of a choice to begin with. Nevertheless, he had some time to spare. He’d already done what damage he could to the enemy before coming to Wales, and it would take a couple of months, he hoped, for the enemy to recoup its losses._

_For the time being, Nico di Angelo was satisfied just enjoying a steaming mug of bittersweet coffee, one of the few pleasures that he’d discovered and allowed himself to keep while on this incredibly taxing journey. He’d been away from Camp Half-Blood and Will Solace for about six months, now. Yet, somehow, there were still nights when the pain of having to leave them all behind was still fresh on his mind._

_Nico’s heart still ached for Will Solace, but he was hoping that the new life he’d started to build in Wales was going to be enough to make him forget about all the horrible things that had happened. There was another man, after all. Someone who’d managed to steal his heart from Will for just a short period of time, but probably long enough, so that he could get away from that old life of his._

_Wyn was a sweetheart. He really was. Sure, the guy was some five years older than Nico was. He was a newly-graduated college student with a degree in history, with a major in Welsh mythology and folklore, and a minor in Graeco-Roman mythology. They’d met on a day much like this in this very same coffee shop. As Nico watched the droplets of rain splatter on the windows, he remembered like it had only been yesterday._

_About a month ago, he’d been sitting on the very same seat as he was at the moment. He’d been moping about Camp Half-Blood. He’d been thinking about Will. He’d been beating himself up about all the mistakes that he’d made._

_Nico remembered just how surprised he was to see a gorgeous Welshman, with blond hair so dark it was almost brunet, sit down in the booth across from him. Truth be told, Eirwyn Argall had spotted the Italian from across the coffee shop and had just had to try and make a move._

_They’d hit it off, instantly. Thanks, in no small part, to Wyn’s natural charm, and his seemingly infinitely broader, in comparison to Nico’s, knowledge of flirting and socialization. Nico remembered vividly what Wyn’s first words were to him. “Thinking a lot of deep dark thoughts, is he?” Nico had nearly dropped his mug in response._

_Oh that would have been a rich first conversation, he found himself musing. Nevertheless, every time he reminisced, Nico found himself thinking that the way they had started out was rather tame in comparison to the three days in the infirmary he’d spent with Will._

_Sure, Wyn probably didn’t understand the pain that Nico had gone through, but there was something about Wyn that just made Nico feel right at home. They’d started talking about, of all things, the dreary weather in Wales. Apparently Wyn had picked up on the fact that Nico was not from around there, and launched into a diatribe about how he loved the gloomy weather._

_The fact that Wyn had said that in his lilting way of speech with a very subtle, almost indistinguishable Welsh accent, had made it all the more attractive for Nico._

_He couldn’t help but compare the man he’d met that fateful day in this coffee shop to Will. Will was sunny and loved the bright and clear skies. On the other hand, Wyn preferred the gloomy weather of the United Kingdom. Wyn, in fact, told him that he found it much more romantic to cuddle in bed during a particularly nasty rainstorm than it was to lay outside in the fields, stargazing._

_Nico had found himself instantly invested in Wyn, but now that he’d had time to think about it, in his ‘deep dark thoughts’ mood, as Wyn affectionately called it, Nico was disturbed to find that he probably latched on to Wyn only as a means of which to escape the memories of Will that still plagued him on his more vulnerable days._

_Nico was shaken from his reverie by the jangling of the silver bell that was hung over the doorframe of the coffee shop. It was Wyn, wearing his typical gray cardigan, form-fitting jeans, and pastel-blue shirt. It was his signature style, he insisted, though Nico kept telling him the truth: It was the only clothing he could spare with the money that he had, since he was paying off his debts from his years in school._

_Wyn looked around for a moment, then spotted Nico, smiled, and shook his head. Nico had never pegged himself for being the sentiment type, but he’d always loved this particular booth by the window in one corner of the shop. The place was somewhat important to him now, considering it was where he and Wyn had met. “Thinking deep dark thoughts, is he?” said Wyn cheekily as he shoved himself onto the seat across from Nico._

_“How did you know?” asked Nico._

_Wyn gestured towards the cup of coffee in Nico’s hands. “You’re drinking your coffee hot” he said with a laugh. Nico grimaced. He didn’t think he’d become so predictable. “You always act like you’re a warrior and that being predictable is the last thing you want to do” said Wyn, chuckling. “It’s alright. We’re together. I know you. Just like you know my limited wardrobe.”_

_Nico laughed, though he couldn’t help the hint of nervousness that slipped into his voice. Was he really just using Wyn as a rebound for Will? If that was the case, then all this, even if it felt real, was unfair. He looked at Wyn, sadly._

_“Hey, love, you alright?” asked Wyn, a frown creasing his eyebrows. Nico looked out the window for a moment, looking so profoundly sad, before he turned back at Wyn, blinking as though he’d not heard the question. “Nico, is everything okay?” Wyn reached across the table to hold Nico’s hand, but Nico jerked it back._

_“Yeah. I’m alright,” said Nico, but the expression on Wyn’s face told him that the Welshman was not at all convinced. Nico shot Wyn a warning look when he opened his mouth to pursue the subject. Hesitantly, Wyn dropped the matter entirely. Nico sighed. “How was your day?”_

_Wyn patted the satchel that was on the seat beside him. “Had a job interview,” he said. “Teaching position.” A smile graced Nico’s face. He took it to mean that Wyn had finally found an opening for a job that he really wanted to have, as a teacher of mythology._

_“At Long Island,” continued Wyn. Nico blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then started laughing nervously. “Why are you laughing?”_

_“Nothing…” said Nico. Wyn frowned. “It’s just… Long Island is a place in the States that I came from. I didn’t know there was a Long Island in the UK” he said, rambling a bit._

_The smile on Wyn’s face slipped. Nico’s evaporated soon afterwards. “There isn’t one” said Wyn grimly. “I’ll be moving abroad.” Nico wanted to protest. He wanted to stay here. He didn’t want to go back there, especially somewhere so close to Camp Half-Blood._

_“Oh” said Nico. “I…” The son of Hades hesitated. He didn’t want to meet Wyn’s eyes. “I hope you get the job,” he finally managed to get out, finally raising his eyes and meeting Wyn’s discerning gaze. There was a hint of hurt dwelling in Wyn’s sharp green eyes._

_“Nico, there’s something you’re not telling me,” said Wyn, blowing off the well-wishing. “If you don’t want to talk about it here, maybe we could talk about it somewhere else?” Nico made a small sound of frustration but nodded. He felt bad about keeping Wyn in the dark, but he was pretty sure that the Welshman would abandon him in a flash once he started spouting all the nonsense he knew about the gods that he was pretty sure wouldn’t show up in mythology classes in college. “Do you want to go home?” said Wyn tersely, grabbing his satchel._

_“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go home” said Nico. Perhaps wishing to be able to build the beginnings of a new life away from the pains of his old one was vain. With the Fates involved, Nico was more than certain that they would never let him get away._

_“Well, come on” said Wyn, jolting Nico out of his thoughts once again. Nico looked up, and blinked, surprised that Wyn was already on his feet. “Let’s not waste time, yeah?” Nico could tell that Wyn was pissed off. The tone of his voice told Nico that Wyn just wanted to get out of there so he wouldn’t cause a scene in public._

\----------

Nico blinked. Then he blinked again. He’d not realized he’d fallen asleep. “Hey” That voice was familiar. Nico tried to push himself into a seating position, but failed miserably. His arms were like limp pasta, and not in a good way, either. “Feeling better?” asked Will, coming into view by standing next to Nico.

“Yeah.” Nico nodded, then tried to move his arm up and down. What he managed was something that looked like a wiggling motion. He’d wanted to raise his arm past his chest, but apparently that was too much to ask of his body. “Well, relatively speaking, I suppose” he said, noticing that he no longer felt like he was fading.

“Good,” said Will, flashing him a smile that dripped of sarcasm. “Because I’m not,” continued the son of Apollo, eyelids sliding shut for a brief moment. Will slumped forward, almost flattening Nico, before the sensation of falling woke him up with a jolt, allowing him to use his arms to stop his fall before it was too late.

Will leaning over Nico, arms stretched against the far side of the bed from where he’d been standing, was a sight that, for some reason, brought bright colour to Nico’s cheeks. It was almost like watching a hotter, more attractive version of Clovis. Thankfully, he was convinced that Will didn’t randomly fall asleep over the course of the day like Clovis, but at the same time, that meant that healing him had taken quite a lot from Will.

Will cleared his throat, then crept back up into a standing position, face beet-red. “Sorry about that…” he said. Nico rolled his eyes. “Bit tired,” Will continued. The two demigods just stared at each other for a good little while, neither one willing to speak, to break the silence.

“Glad to see you’re up,” said another voice from the other side of the bed. Nico turned, slowly, towards the source of the sound. It was Jason. There was something odd about the son of Jupiter. His eyes looked almost glassy.

Jason removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes before getting to his feet. “I’ll see you both around at the party later, then,” said Jason. “But first…” he said with a bittersweet smile at Nico. “Can I maybe… get a hug?”

Nico frowned. He’d said that there would be no more physical touchy-touchy after the whole fiasco with the greeting, but he supposed that there was no harm in making an exception. He supposed that this whole day still qualified, technically, as a special occasion. Nico nodded. “Alright. Fine. But make it quick” managed Nico. Jason chuckled and leaned over the bed to wrap his arms for a moment around Nico.

“There. Feel better already,” said Jason. Nico noticed a suspicious wetness on Jason’s cheeks, but made no comment on it. Something told the son of Hades that he and Jason would have time enough to talk at a later date. “I’m going to go and help out with the party, if that’s alright with you guys?”

Nico nodded. Will nodded, but his expression and attitude towards Jason was measured. It was strange. It was almost as though there was something that they were trying to hide. Again, Nico didn’t bother asking about it. He didn’t want to cause unnecessary drama. Not today. Not yet.

“I’ll see you later, Nico” said Jason, wiggling his fingers in a small wave. Nico tried to do the same, scowling when his hand refused to obey him. Jason laughed. Nico scowled. Then, Jason turned to Will, his expression turning profoundly sad. “I’ll see you later, Will.”

“Yeah, see you later, Jason.” Will’s eyes lingered on Jason’s retreating back. Then he swallowed audibly, as though there was something stuck in his throat. He turned back to Nico and grinned brightly. “Maybe I should keep you this way. Would be much easier forcing you to stay in the infirmary like this. You could go to your party in a wheelchair!”

“Excuse me?” said Nico, trying again to sit up so he could launch a smack at Will. It didn’t really work. He could barely move his arms, much less move them fast enough to leave a lasting impression on Will. “I don’t want to show up to my party like a cripple!” he protested, though with that shit-eating grin on Will’s face, Nico could tell that the healer didn’t mean it at all. If anything, Will wanted Nico to come to the party strong and on his feet.

Will had another of his micro-naps. Thankfully, he’d already sat down on the chair by the side of the bed, so instead he slumped forward, his head running into Nico’s side. Grunting, Nico pushed Will’s head away. “Get off me, Solace! And get a hold of yourself!”

Will pushed himself off the bed and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He muttered something unintelligible. Nico wanted to know what Will had just said, but the healer could as well have been speaking in Welsh. “I said…” Will yawned. “That’s easier said than done, especially in your case.”

Nico blinked at Will for a moment. Was Will joking about…? Gods that was different. Then, Nico started laughing, but it sounded more like a hacking cough. Gods, it hurt to laugh. Everything hurt. Will shook his head, scowling as Nico tried his best to stop the laughter.

“Ow. Ow. Ow,” said Nico, when he was done. He lay there wheezing as he tried to catch his breath. Will reached over to the table by the bedside and popped a square of ambrosia in his mouth. Nico could see the energy returning to Will. “Can I have some?”

“No!” said Will. “Sorry.” The healer sheepishly apologized. “Not until I manage to get some strength into you,” said Will firmly, stretching his arms and hands over Nico. The son of Hades flinched. He had every right to be apprehensive. The last time Will did the hand-hovering thing was when he tore the fading out of Nico’s body and shoved it into a mouse and everyone else that had gathered.

“What are you doing?” asked Nico, understandably anxious about what was going on. In the three years that had passed, his own powers had grown considerably. When he’d said that he was the most powerful child of the Big Three, Nico was fairly certain that what he’d said was fact. However, he was more than happy to give Jason and Percy something to bicker about for the next couple of weeks, at least until the next crisis popped up, which, Nico knew without a doubt, would be soon.

“Shush!” said Will. “I’m trying to concentrate here.” Nico rolled his eyes and tried his best to not be too tense, though it was a bit difficult. It seemed as though Will’s own powers had grown a lot, with Hades’ help, too, apparently.

Nico would have to ask Will about that at a later date. He was genuinely curious as to how a son of Apollo had managed to get Hades’ help, and, more than that, his tutelage. “Will…” whispered Nico. “Nothing’s happening…”

“Shut up!” snapped Will, maybe a tad bit too aggressively. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just… I’m really trying to concentrate, okay? So please, be quiet.” Nico could tell that Will was annoyed by the curtness of his response.

“Okay, fine” said Nico, drawing a shake of the head from Will.

Without any warning, bright, warm golden light shot out of Will’s hands and started wrapping around Nico’s body. Strands of glowing, pulsating brightness would around his torso first. The thick ropes of light kept coming and coming, wrapping Nico in a cocoon of radiance that somehow smelled faintly like pineapples, though the scent was somewhat tinged with bitterness.

Nico felt the aches in his muscles and bones ebb away as the light intensified in brightness. Looking down at his own body was like looking into the sun, but it was neither blinding nor unpleasant. In fact, it was beautiful, almost, seeing the flecks of gold dancing in thick tendrils of brightness that were wrapped around him.

Strength surged in Nico for a moment. For an instant, he felt as though he could lift a mountain if he wanted to, but the feeling was fleeting as a dream. As soon as it had come, it had passed, though Nico felt considerably stronger than he had been before Will started doing whatever it was that he was doing. Without warning, the light sputtered. Nico frowned. Then the light sputtered again. Then a third time. Finally, it blinked out of existence, and Will fell forward, face falling onto Nico’s stomach.

Two minutes later, while Nico was busy admiring the fact that he could actually lift his arms now, Will shot bolt upright in his seat as though he’d been shocked. “Huh? Buh-wuh-what happened?” Nico laughed. The sound was almost musical to Will’s ears. This one was free of any bitterness whatsoever. It was so carefree that it almost seemed as though it was someone else that had momentarily possessed Nico’s body and was laughing with it.

“I’m glad you’re happy, sunshine,” said Will, fully expecting a glower and a stern telling-off to not call Nico that. It didn’t happen.

“I’m just glad to be back,” admitted Nico, but having seen his friends again was something of a double-edged sword. He was relieved and ecstatic to see them all again, but at the same time, it wasn’t until he realized how much Will’s powers had grown that he realized how much of their lives he’d missed. In missing so much over the past three years, Nico felt like he’d deprived them of the ability to enjoy their lives properly. For that, Nico couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty. Nevertheless, Will’s bright smile chased away the deep, dark thoughts.

The blessedly-empty infirmary made the silence that followed all the more awkward. Both young men looked at each other, the tension mounting between them until it was almost like a spark would leap from one demigod to the other at any moment. The silence grew until it snapped. Nico was the one to break the quiet. Well, technically it was Will that broke the silence by stifling a yawn, but he’d not talked afterwards. “Why did you keep your powers a secret for three years?” asked Nico, truly curious. It could have made Will a hero in the camp.

“Because it was _our_ secret, Nico,” Will admitted. Then, he sighed and propped up his head by his hands. Sure, maybe knowledge of his powers would have gained him praise from his other siblings, and the other campers, but the attention would have been unwanted. He had been grieving for the past three years, and the last thing he wanted was to be placed on a pedestal.

Over the years, Will had learned that Nico had been right. Being put on a pedestal was almost as bad as being singled out a driven away. Sure, the praise felt good for a while, but then people started treating you differently. It was not worth it.

There was also the fact that their promise to keep Will’s powers a secret reminded him of Nico, and gods knew why, but his memories of the boy had begun slipping some time in the last year. Maybe Will would have told someone else in the future of his powers, but he never would have been open about them for a long time, probably a few years more, if Nico had not returned that day.

“Oh,” said Nico, turning the same shade of pink as Will’s cheeks. Then his face turned more morose. Nico looked at Will, his dark eyes meeting Will’s bright blue ones. “We fucked that up royally, didn’t we?” he asked, the words heavy on his tongue. “The whole trying to become friends thing…” he made sure to clarify.

“ _I_ fucked that up royally” said Will, looking apologetically at Nico. Then his hands started trembling. The sweat returned to his forehead. “Look, Nico…” Will whispered. Nico didn’t react. He hadn’t heard. “Umm…” Will couldn’t believe that he was about to do this. He’d spent the last three years mustering enough courage to do what he was about to do, but he was still nervous beyond belief. He did not want to say anything that he would later regret. He didn’t want to mess anything up even more than it already was.

“I actually did like you,” said Will. Did. Past tense. Nico had managed to convince himself that he was over Will Solace while he’d been with Eirwyn, but he’d realized, over the last couple of months, that he really hadn’t moved on. Needless to say, those words made his heart ache all over again. Nico’s already-battered and bruised heart still bore the scars of wounds that not even three years had been able to heal.

Will sucked in a deep breath, then Nico straight in the eyes with burning conviction. “I still do” he said, almost too flatly, because he was trying to not sound like a wimp. Nico suddenly remembered fondly how he’d thought there were skeletal butterflies in the thousands resurrecting in his stomach all those years ago, but even that memory did not compare to what he felt at that moment, when he heard those words.

They weren’t butterflies anymore. They had evolved to something else entirely. Fluttering in Nico’s stomach were fucking eagles. Skeletal eagles. Between that and the feeling of his heart thumping so loudly in his chest it sounded like thunder to him, Nico had to wonder why he hadn’t passed out yet.

Nico looked at Will. Really _looked_ this time. The son of Apollo looked really, _really_ tired. It was almost as though he’d given up taking care of himself for the longest time, but continued to groom himself just enough so that people wouldn’t take too much notice. Nico’s eyebrows furrowed, but he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Will’s face. He was completely red, but his ears were a somehow-darker shade of crimson.

Will’s mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. He wasn’t able to form any coherent thoughts! That was, until he saw the twinge of pink on Nico’s cheeks deepening into multiple hues of red as it spread across Nico’s entire face.

“I-I-I… I don’t know why I’m like this,” Will confessed, barely able to stutter the words out. He persevered through the words, anyway. “I don’t know why I like you so much…” Nico frowned, confused. What did Will mean by _that_?

“No! No! It’s just…” Will sighed, taking another deep breath and squeezing his own hand in an attempt to steady his nerves. “It’s been so long since I ended up getting this crush on you that I…” The colour on Will’s face deepened even more. “I don’t even remember why I got it in the first place…”

Again, Nico laughed. Again, the sound was like sweet, sweet music to Will’s ears. It was surprising, even for Nico, to hear such a carefree sound coming from him. It was the last thing he’d expected, returning to camp. The warm welcome was beyond his wildest dreams, and now, the boy he’d fallen in love with was confessing to him. Nico was giddy beyond what words could describe.

“I…” Somehow, Will managed to find a way to flush even redder. It was almost endearing. Almost. It was mostly funny. “I wanted to be with you since I saw you in action at the Battle of Manhattan…” Again. Another shade darker. “Okay, maybe before that, I was already interested, but it was after the battle that my heart just went like ‘damn, I want that boy…’”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Will couldn’t help but start laughing himself. They definitely triggered more laughter from Nico. “And here we are, years later…” said Will, voice suddenly going soft.

Nico nodded, the smile never once leaving his face. “And here we are…” he agreed, still laughing. “Still celebrating the end of a world-threatening crisis.” Then Nico fell deathly silent. “Too bad there’s another one on the way.”

Judging from the sudden halt of laughter from Will, Nico realized what he’d said. The son of Hades clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late to take back what had already been spilled. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to…” He looked at Will, half-panicked. He picked up rather quickly that the same expression was on Will, though likely for entirely different reasons. No one wanted to have to face another crisis so soon after the last one.

“You know what…” said Nico, trailing off even though his voice carried steely determination through it. “Don’t mind what I just said, Will.” The healer frowned at him and looked at him as though he’d lost it. “It’s not coming for a few months yet, I hope. Or at least a few weeks.” Nico blushed. “I just want to talk to you…”

A smile of relief spread on Will’s face, even though he wasn’t entirely convinced of Nico’s conviction that the crisis wouldn’t happen just yet. He had to believe Nico. _Had_ to. He didn’t want this happy little time they had to be over already. He didn’t want to have to deal with the possibility of another crisis so soon, relatively, after the last one. Especially now, that Nico had just returned, and he’d just confessed to Nico exactly how he felt. At the very least, no one could blame him for not trying anymore.

“Anyway…” said Will, voice soft and tentative, as though he didn’t want to breach the matter. “That night three years ago, when you vanished because of me…” Nico raised an eyebrow. “I messed up really badly,” admitted Will. Gods. No matter how many times he said it to himself in the mirror, hearing those words were like a punch in the gut. They almost always left him winded. “I’d always wanted to approach you, Nico, but I was too damn stupid… and afraid…” Will looked at Nico, eyes shiny. “Self-conscious to do anything about how I felt.”

Nico rolled his eyes. As if _he_ hadn’t been that way all those years ago either. By Hades, if Nico took a poll of the people that actually knew him, he was pretty sure that he would rank worse on the deathly shy list than Will. “I always wanted to talk to you. Say hi, maybe. Ask you to hang out…” Will reddened considerably.

Nico laughed. As if they would have had time to hang out anyway, considering how the whole Gaea incident had taken place practically right after the battle of Manhattan. “But you were always distant. Far away from everyone. Aloof. Then there were the rumours that you liked Annabeth. Don’t even get me started on those…” Will trailed off then looked sheepishly at Nico.

Nico knew exactly what that look meant. Will had just stopped himself from going on one of his infamous tangents. “I was kind of discouraged, to say the least,” admitted the son of Apollo, rubbing his upper right arm with his left hand. Nico could tell that Will was nervous by his body language. “I spent so long pining after you, Nico. I swear it. I was so in love with the idea of being with you that I was so afraid you would tell me you weren’t interested.”

Deep inside, Nico felt warm. Even though the tale that Will was telling him was quite tragic, and, in many ways, painfully familiar, Nico couldn’t help but feel special because Will was laying his entire being bare and prostrate in front of Nico. Even though he wanted nothing more than to reciprocate the gesture, Nico knew well enough that forcing himself to do such a thing would only result in disaster. “So…” continued Will. “When I finally managed to get close enough to you to start talking to you, I was so happy. I was absolutely over the moon…”

There was a wistful smile on Will’s face. He was staring off at a point in the distance. Nico could tell that he was reminiscing on the days they’d spent in the infirmary, actually happy, before all the drama took place. “That night when you vanished…” The look on Will’s face was replaced by pained guilt.

For the first time, Nico noticed something odd about what Will was doing with his hands. Will’s right arm was absently stretched downwards in between his legs, the underside exposed towards Nico. His left hand, in turn, however, was drawing lines across the exposed flesh. Nico felt a shiver run down his spine. He refused to believe what his mind was telling him. “It was all my fault, Nico, but it was just a misunderstanding.”

The smile on Nico’s face was long gone. He tilted his head at Will in curiosity and slight confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but Will shushed him. “Let me finish, Nico” he said, with a sigh. “Look, that night after the bonfire, I wasn’t telling Lou Ellen that I liked her, okay?”

Nico remained silent. He could tell that Will was not done. “You just came in at the wrong time.” Nico raised an eyebrow. What in Hades was Will talking about? What campfire? What talk with Lou Ellen? He didn’t remember any of this. “All I was doing, Nico, was telling her that I was afraid. That…” Will trailed off and looked Nico in the eye. “That even if I wanted to, I couldn’t just tell you that I really, _really_ liked you. I’m sorry…” said Will, almost regretfully.

Will must have caught Nico’s eyes flit down quickly, because he then hid his right arm behind his back, mortified at having been caught, but not before Nico had noticed the red lines left by the almost-obsessive drawing back and forth of a fingernail across the flesh of the underside of his arm.

Will sighed and shook his head. “I should have just manned up and had the balls to do it, you know?” he said. Nico could tell that if it wasn’t inappropriate, Will would be beating himself over the head with his own fists. “I was scared. I was really, _really_ scared of being rejected,” admitted Will.

The smile that turned up the corners of Nico’s lips as he looked at Will made the healer’s heart skip a beat or two or three. Probably more like a dozen, but he couldn’t really think straight, seeing that smile. Will’s breath hitched in his throat. He’d seen a Nico di Angelo smile before. This one was different. One he’d only seen _now_.

“It’s been three years, Will,” said the son of Hades. “I tried my best to get over what I had felt back then, but apparently,” Nico laughed, bitterly, remembering the weeks of nigh-unbearable emotional torment that he’d had to endure upon leaving camp. “My best was not enough.”

The details of that night that made him flee the camp were fuzzy at best in his mind, yet the pain of the memories was vivid and fresh. “I did like you then, Will.” Promised Nico. “I never liked Jason…” Nico paused as Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. Maybe a little bit, for a moment. But that’s not the point, right?” he said, hoping to draw that winning only-for-Nico smile of Will’s “I still like you, you know?” he said, grinning at the shocked expression on Will’s face that evolved into something more ecstatic.

“But,” said Nico. “I can’t promise anything. You know that, right, Will?” he asked. Will nodded in agreement. He accepted that much. By Hades, when he’d started his whole diatribe about liking Nico, he’d been prepared for the friend-zoning. He’d not expected or been prepared for _this_.

“I don’t know why I’m feeling this way, Will…” Nico trailed off, then looked at the red lines on Will’s arm. “I…” Nico’s voice failed him for a moment. “I mean no offense, but before the final battle with Gaea, I never even considered you as I dunno, _partner_ material.” Will accepted that.

Then, just on time for the regular injection of Will’s silliness, a shit-eating grin crossed the healer’s face. “So…” he said, looking at Nico playfully. “Does that mean you fell head-over-heels in love with me when you stayed with me at the infirmary?” he asked, entirely prepared to get punched in the face. Surprisingly, the fist didn’t come. “I always knew you liked the ‘Doctor’s Orders’ thing too much to not be interested…”

Nico laughed. “No!” he exclaimed. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Solace” he said, playfully shoving Will away. Will tried to do the same thing to Nico, but reflexively, the son of Hades flinched and said “Please don’t.” Will blinked. Then, he did as he was asked. He wasn’t going to violate Nico’s boundaries. Not willingly, or without good reason, at least.

“It was like a crush at first sight, Will…” admitted Nico. The son of Hades had not wanted to acknowledge that little factoid, but that was the truth of the situation. That was what it always boiled down to. A crush-at-first-sight. He’d seen someone whom he found suddenly very attractive, and tripped all over himself because of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, Will—” said Nico, slowly. Will was grinning stupidly. “I thought you were hot.” Nico paused. “Well, not exactly” elaborated the son of Hades. “I remembered something about Thalia calling Apollo hot after I found you on that hilltop.”

Will made a face. As much as his father truly was an attractive man whom Will had to thank for his good looks, he did not want to think of his father as ‘hot’ in anything other than the sense that he quite literally drove a car that represented the fucking sun. Nico laughed. He also thought that thinking of Apollo as hot was weird, but Apollo wasn’t his dad, so it wasn’t nearly as bad.

“Well, whatever” said Nico, waving the subject of Apollo being attractive away with his hands. “What does matter, Will, is that I _do_ like you, son of Apollo. I _do_ think you’re somewhat hot… I _do_ want to be with you…”

“ _Somewhat_ hot?” protested Will, scoffing in mock-offense.

Nico rolled his eyes and chuckled, before turning serious once more and looking into Will’s eyes. “I never wanted to tell you about my feelings before because…” Nico paused and blinked away the tears that had suddenly obstructed his vision. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. I was afraid of maybe falling in love with someone that couldn’t love me back, pining after them endlessly for years, like I did for Percy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Like promised. Some progress between Nico and Will.
> 
> Three years does strange things to people. They're ready now. At least ready to admit their feelings and give a relationship a damn good try. You'll quickly see it's going to be much more trying than that, but for now, I'll let you have your happiness. :3. As always, I would loooooove to read your comments. If you like the story so far, leave me a kudos!
> 
> Again, as always, if you have any questions, leave me an ask on my tumblr at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthe-highwind.tumblr.com/ask). I'm open to any questions you might have, whether related to me or the story. :D.
> 
> Anyway, I'll see you guys on Tuesday. Be prepared for something of a traumatic flashback. :3.


	4. Enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I rip your hearts out, put them back together, then rip them out again. <3\. I hope you don't hate me _too_ much for it. By the way, trigger warning! There's a self-harm scene that comes up here. If you don't want to read it, then please, skip the part of the story that comes after the second "----------". Additionally, new tags: Alcohol.
> 
> Also, I have a request to make of you, my dear readers, but I'll address that in the end-of-chapter notes.

_The_ talk _with Wyn had gone far better than Nico had expected. Far, far better than he ever imagined. His head hit the wall so hard that it bounced off not once, but twice, but it wasn’t because he was being slammed against it out of anger, no, nothing remotely like that._

_Nico was beyond the point of caring that it hurt somewhat. The thing that was on his mind was that every single fibre of his being felt unimaginably good. Wyn was ravishing him. Wyn was depriving him his innocence, but Nico didn’t give a damn anymore. His lips were bruised; he wanted Wyn to bruise them more._

_The heat in his face, and, truthfully, throughout his body made him desire only one thing, at that moment in time, above all others: to be brought to fulfillment, to the heights of bliss. “Gods, Wyn…” he whispered, fingers fumbling clumsily at the button of Wyn’s jeans._

_“Nico di Angelo…” panted the Welsh demigod, though Nico still didn’t know that part of Wyn. “A fool, that one is” Wyn growled, peppering the length of Nico’s jaw with kisses that were simultaneously so lovingly tender and possessively rough that Nico’s heart couldn’t help but flutter in his chest._

_Wyn was a master of the art of pleasuring other men. The fact that Nico’s erection was straining in his pants, trying its best to break free of the confining fabric, stood, in more ways than one, as testament to Wyn’s masterful abilities. “If you thought I would leave you when you told me that the gods I studied about my entire life were real, you were mistaken.” Wyn’s voice was gravelly and laden with lust and want. Wyn’s fingers, Nico was like putty, writhing, squirming, and almost-dancing to the music of Wyn’s ministrations._

_“Gods,” whispered Wyn in Nico’s ear. Nico shivered when Wyn started to suckle on the lobe of his ear. The tingling sensations went straight down his back and into his most private place. Nico moaned wantonly._

_Fortunately for Wyn, it seemed as though Nico couldn’t tell that the Welshman was using his powers to inflame Nico’s lusts. Wyn was, after all, a demigod himself. The son of a god of Love. Unfortunately for Nico, Wyn had been born into his father’s darker side._

_Wyn could tell that Nico was still in love with someone, his heart still caught up despite being still in pieces over that other boy. When Wyn had first seen Nico in that coffee shop, he’d known that he wanted nothing more than to have the Italian for himself, consequences be damned. “I want you,” said Wyn simply. In his state of heightened arousal, Nico very nearly creamed his pants._

_Wyn had waited long enough. He’d given Nico enough of a chance to get over that un-deserving piece of shit that had caused him so much pain. He was going to take Nico for himself now. Fuck everything else. Nico was going to be_ his _._

_“I’m yours” groaned Nico, eyes squeezed shut from the exquisite heights of pleasure that he was feeling. He’d never felt this way before. He’d definitely fantasized about it, especially when he’d been younger and raging with hormones. He’d always felt guilty afterwards, but this was different. This was purely indulgent._

_Nico moaned when Wyn bit into the flesh of his collarbone. The piteous sound of greedy want made Wyn press Nico harder into the wall. The sheer warmth of the Welshman made Nico tingle all over. The son of Hades was almost delirious from all the lust that was coursing through his veins._

_Nico’s hardness was bordering on uncomfortably painful. “Gods…” said Nico, sucking in air sharply when Wyn ground his hips into Nico’s, rubbing Nico’s member through his pants. “Gods do that again…” begged the Italian. “So good…” he moaned wantonly, lost in the sensations that now ruled his consciousness._

_Wyn couldn’t help but smirk. He pressed his lips into Nico’s and grunted in surprise when Nico’s back arched off the wall, pressing his body into Wyn’s torso. Nico was definitely reacting like putty in his hands, and Wyn had every intention of shaping that putty to make it love and adore him, and make it forget about that other boy that had broken its heart._

_“That’s just how I want you…” whispered Wyn, moving in for another kiss. “Mine” he growled possessively as his hands found their way down the back of Nico’s pants and cupped the supple flesh of the other demigod’s butt._

_Wyn squeezed the globes of flesh, making Nico keen with need. Wyn chuckled before suckling on the flesh of Nico’s neck. His fingers wandered across Nico’s ass, his index finger finding its way down the cleft of the Italian’s cheeks. It found a pulsing entrance waiting for it._

_Wyn pressed his finger against Nico’s puckered hole, drawing another sharp breath from Nico. The son of Hades never thought he’d react like this, but his back arched off of the wall, and he pressed his hips back against the invading finger, pushing it deeper into his most private sanctum._

_The finger wriggled deeper into Nico, the rough pain of his dry penetration only adding more to the pleasures already inflamed within him. Nico hissed when Wyn pressed his finger against Nico’s prostate. Wyn moaned from the feeling of Nico’s velvety warmth clench around his finger._

_Wyn removed his finger from inside Nico, making the younger man keen with want. Wyn chuckled and pressed his lips against Nico’s briefly, before placing his hands on Nico’s shoulders and pushing the Italian down to his knees. Nico stared at the floor, confused momentarily, before he felt fingers wrap around his chin, jerking his head up._

_Wyn smiled down at the Italian. “That’s just where I want you…” he breathed with a smirk. Nico looked up at Wyn almost adoringly, with wide, puppy-like eyes. Wyn laughed and undid his trousers, dropping the form-fitting jeans down around his ankles, leaving his package surrounded only by the sheer cloth of his underwear._

_The Welshman wrapped his hands around his considerable package, feeling himself and squeezing himself through his underwear. Nico’s eyes zeroed in on what he was doing. Nico made a sound of want. “Puppy wants a bone?” teased Wyn._

_“Well,” he said, almost impatiently. “Get to it, yeah?” Nico looked up at Wyn’s eyes, tearing his eyes away from the package being dangled tantalizingly in front of him, unsure of what to do with it. “Oh right…” said Wyn with an almost-menacing grin. “You’re a virgin” he breathed through gritted teeth, the idea itself almost unbearably hot._

_Wyn smirked again. “This is going to be fun…” he said. Wyn placed his hands on the back of Nico’s head and pulled Nico’s face up towards his crotch, taking great care to rub Nico’s nose in the wet spot of pre-cum that had stained his underwear. “How’s that, Nico?” asked Wyn. “Like the smell of a real man?” he said, almost growling._

_Nico could form no words in response. He moaned against Wyn’s crotch, the Welshman’s cock resting across the bridge of his nose, separated only from his skin by a thin layer of fabric. Nico’s cock got almost impossibly harder in his pants, pre-cum spurting from the tip and creating a growing wet-spot in the front of his jeans._

_“Open your mouth” said Wyn, coaxing Nico’s lips open gently with his fingers. Nico stuck out his tongue and licked Wyn’s nuts. The Welshman groaned, then looked down at Nico with a grin on his face. “That’s it…” he said, encouragingly. “That’s it…” Nico continued to lick at Wyn’s package, eyes never once leaving Wyn’s. “Good boy…” he said, ruffling the son of Hades’ hair affectionately._

\----------

Nico’s hands were trembling as he looked at Will. Even his eyes were fidgety, darting all over the place, but always, always returning to look at the soft blue eyes that stared back. “I don’t know…” Nico drew a deep breath, the sound coming out more ragged than he’d expected.

“I don’t know what we are” he said, voice firmer this time. “What—” Nico gestured at Will, then at himself, then at the empty space that separated them. To Will, it looked more like wild gesticulation, but he didn’t think Nico would appreciate the interruption. “What this is between us.”

Nico gulped audibly. It was getting harder and harder to talk. “I don’t know if it’s going to work out, or if it’s going to crash and burn and take the whole world with it.” Will couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrous idea of a relationship of his causing the world to fall into ruin,

Him? Will Solace? Really? The most useless son of Apollo except when it came to healing, potentially destroying the world because of a relationship with Nico di Angelo? Not likely. Again, Will didn’t think pointing that out would get him any points with Nico.

“But…” said the son of Hades, shooting a meaningful glance at Will. Startlingly blue eyes sparkled with the kind of innocent hope that was often plain in the eyes of children. Nico couldn’t help but smile. Will. A child? Unlikely. Percy Jackson, perhaps, but not Will Solace. “I think we owe it to ourselves to try, right?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, as Nico slowly cracked a nervous grin at Will. Nico had to command all of his willpower to not let loose his bated breath in a relieved sigh when Will smiled back at him. Will looked at Nico, eyes shining with happy tears. “I guess we do,”

Nico grinned, feeling free to let the relief show on his face. “So…” said Will, rubbing his arm nervously. He broke the gaze with Nico and stared at his feet. “Does this mean…” He looked up again, eyes pleading. “Does this mean we’re boyfriends now?”

Nico was at a momentary loss for words. He blanched visibly first, then turned absolutely scarlet. He was pretty sure that he could likely put a tomato to shame with the colour of his face at that moment. “I…” Nico had to fight to get the words out. “I suppose we are…” he said.

Will’s face lit up, probably partly literally, but Nico couldn’t tell, and his mouth swung open as though he was about to scream out of utter joy. Will’s hands were balled into fists and he looked like he was about to thrust them to the heavens, but for some odd reason, Will clamped his jaw shut, brought his fists back down to the bed and blinked at Nico. The son of Apollo did all this wordlessly, stunning Nico into a similar silence. “I meant to say, I’m honoured,” said Will, sheepishly.

Nico blinked at Will. Then he blinked again. Moments later, he couldn’t stop giggling at the stupidity of what Will had just done. It took him a while before he could properly breathe again, but the whole time, Will had been half-glowering, half-smiling tenderly at him. “So…” Will bit part of his lower lip.

“Would you mind if I…?” he asked, almost politely, as he leaned in, as though to plant a kiss on Nico’s lips. Will’s eyes were lidded. Half-shut. His entire body seemed to be trembling in anticipation and apprehension.

Nico glanced nervously at Will’s lips, then at those earnest, lidded blue eyes. Nico breathed deeply. He supposed a quick kiss wouldn’t hurt… Nico squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best not to flinch away as Will approached him. “Yeah, no, go ahead…” he said, voice getting smaller and softer with each word that came from him.

Will opened his eyes fully and took one look at the way that Nico’s face was scrunched up, and his eyes were squeezed closed, and his entire body seemed to be as tense as a spring that had been compressed to its limits. Will decided to not go for the kiss.

Will didn’t know why Nico was reacting so aversely to being shown affection in a relatively private space, but he wasn’t going to press the matter just yet. Instead of kissing Nico in the passionate way that he’d envisioned, that he’d fantasized about, he instead pressed his lips to Nico’s forehead.

“W-what was that?” asked Nico, his face lighting up like a bright red Christmas light. He’d been prepared to feel Will’s lips against his own. Honestly, he’d fantasized about it for so long, too. Nico didn’t understand why he’d suddenly been gripped by such an apprehension.

“Next time, Nico…” said Will softly, gently, running the back of his fingers down the side of Nico’s face in a tender gesture of affection. “Next time, if you don’t feel anything, just tell me, okay?” said the son of Apollo, returning to his seat, a respectful distance from his now-boyfriend.

“I wouldn’t ever dare to pressure you into doing something that you don’t want to do,” said Will, completely serious. “I don’t _want_ to push you to do something you’re not ready for.” Will extended his hand and looked at Nico for permission. Nico nodded slowly.

Will took Nico’s hand and gripped it tightly, the warmth of the son of Apollo flowing through Nico’s entire arm. “I don’t care if it means that I have to wait days, weeks, months or even years to do the things that I want to do to you and with you,” said Will, determination in his voice.

“Nico, I waited for you for three years,” said Will, softly. “It hasn’t all been easy. Hell. It’s been the most difficult three years of my life…” Nico looked down at the hand in his own. His chest ached. Will had every right to be angry, but he wasn’t. Nico couldn’t help but feel guilty. “I can wait a little more, if it means that I get to be with you.”

Nico looked back up at Will, expecting to see mischief gleaming in those bright blue eyes that he’d never quite managed to get out of his head. Instead, Nico had to bite back a gasp when he saw nothing but gleaming sincerity in their sapphire depths. Nico tried his best to blink away the tears that blurred his vision. He smiled at Will, the expression small, compared to his earlier grin. Only the corners of Nico’s lips turned up in a smile, but it was enough. It was enough to make Will’s heart feel as though it was soaring.

There was a moment of silence that followed, but it was surprisingly enough, not awkward. They spent a good couple of minutes just looking at each other, drinking in the sight of the other boy to whom, for better or worse, they were currently committed to. More than that, though, the silence was almost like their way of telling each other that they didn’t always have to talk. That quiet moments like these were just fine and dandy.

Will broke the silence, though only after a long while. “So…” he said, hesitation clear on his voice. “You don’t hate me for that night after the campfire?” he asked, evidently apprehensive of what the answer might very well be. “For my stupidity? For inviting Lou Ellen into your cabin without your permission?”

Will sucked in a deep breath and then breathed it out raggedly after a few seconds. His eyes were boring into Nico’s trying to discern any hint of anger or maybe even loathing in them. All he saw was confusion. “For accidentally making you think I liked her instead of you?”

Nico tilted his head at the healer and raised an eyebrow. Nico didn’t understand what was going on. What Will was talking about. “I…” he said, pausing for a moment as a realization started to dawn on him. “No,” said Nico firmly. “I don’t hate you for anything, Will,” he reiterated.

The realization fully set in for Nico, and he wanted to mentally slap himself for forgetting that he’d made sure he would forget about that night in particular. It was part of the price he’d had to pay for the weapon he now had.

“I really…” said Nico, hesitating again, not really sure how to break the news to Will. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he finally said, hastily, and for good reason. Will’s smile slipped right off his face. Will gawked at Nico, looking as though he was trying to determine whether Nico was playing a prank on him. As far as Will could tell, Nico was being completely serious!

“What in Hades’ name…” whispered Will under his voice, though Nico heard the expression of disbelief. Nico had to stifle a chuckle at the thought of Will using his father’s name in such an expression. It was just so _odd_ to think of a son of Apollo and Hades getting along somewhat, much less, enough so that the son of Apollo was receiving tutelage from the Lord of the Dead.

Will reached out with his hands, fingers twitching and drawing away when he came within an inch of touching Nico’s drakonskin cloak. Will looked at Nico again for permission. Then he looked pointedly at the cloak to clarify that that was what he wanted to examine.

Will had thought that there was something strange about the drakonskin cloak, the least of its quirks was that it almost seemed alive under his touch, that it almost felt like feeling the flesh and sinew of an actual, living drakon under his skin. “This…” whispered Will, when he rubbed his thumb and forefinger in a small circle around a portion of the cloak.

Will removed his fingers and looked at them in a mix of wonder and horror. The soot was old. Old enough to be ingrained in the leather. Old enough to probably be set in there permanently. Will was very much tempted to ask where Nico had gotten the cloak, but decided against it.

Instead he inquired after what had happened to Nico in those three years that they had been apart. “Nico…” he said, voice tight with concern and quivering with a twinge of fear. Nico couldn’t tell whether the fear was _of_ him or _for_ him.

“What happened to you…?” asked Will. Nico’s hand reached up to his collar, blushing Will’s fingers as he adjusted the silver skull pin that had somehow found its way back to where it had been for the longest time. Nico suspected Will had put it back there. “What did you do those three years you were away?”

“It’s a long story…” admitted Nico, heaving a sigh and looking down dejectedly. It was a _very_ long story. One that would probably take him a few days to sit down and properly relate with explanations of the stranger parts.

The things that Nico did in those three years were many. Not all of them were good things. Not all of them were things Nico was particularly proud of. Not all of those things he could share with Will, even if he so badly wanted to just talk about the things he’d seen and accomplished.

Will just frowned when the elaboration he’d been hoping for didn’t come. “Nico, you have missing memories…” said Will, with a rather intense grimace. “We all know what happened the last time a powerful demigod or two had missing memories…” said Will, trailing off.

Nico knew more than anyone what those words meant, what the implication hovering in the air between himself and his new boyfriend was. Unfortunately, Will wasn’t far from hitting on the truth. There was indeed _something_ coming for them, but Nico didn’t think Will was yet ready for that knowledge. “Maybe we should go visit the gods…”

“Or at least the ones we can still talk to…”

\----------

_Why was this happening to him? Of all the fucking things that could start fraying in his memory, that could start fading at the edges, why did it have to be his memories of Nico? Will Solace was sitting in the dark in the Hades cabin. The razor he used so many times in the past was sitting on the table by the side of one of the coffin-beds. He tried not to stare at it. Those times had been desperate times. Sadder times. Things were already starting to look up. A bit._

_Then, Will had to go and try and remember what had happened the night that Nico had vanished, only to realize that not everything was as crisp and clear as it should’ve been. Not even the pain. The exquisite, all-encompassing pain that had burned through him right before Nico had melted away into a puddle of shadows was as sharp as before. Will shivered, tearing his eye away from that sliver of stainless steel on the table. He knew it was bad. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he was very much tempted._

_Will inhaled deeply, his breath shaky, before he let loose a sigh. Hands trembling, Will gave in to the temptation. If he was going to forget anything about Nico, it was okay, so long as he remembered the pain that he’d felt that night. Will wanted to remember the searing agony that had felt like his bones were being reduced to ashes. That pain, and that pain alone, was what he wanted to keep if he was actually beginning to lose his memories. It was only right. He had caused so much pain that night. It was only fair that he should remember the pain he’d felt himself, whatever the cost._

_The son of Apollo was shaking all over as he picked up the razor for the first time in two months. Jason had made him promise he wouldn’t do it again, but the thought of losing those memories of the night that Nico had vanished was terrifying enough that he was willing to fuck over one of the few people that was trying to help him through this difficult time in his life. “I’m sorry…” whispered Will, the tears beginning to cloud his vision. “I’m sorry, Jason…” he said, voice unsteady as his hands._

_Will was shaking so badly out of fear of disappointing Jason that the moment he brought the razor against his skin, he dropped it. Apart from the sound of Will’s ragged breathing in the cabin, only the tinkle of the razor against the floor could be heard. Then the rustling as Will clambered out of the bed and started feeling around on the floor for the razor. Then Will cursed and hissed. His finger had been pricked. Tangly blood was beading at the tip of his index finger. Will sucked the blood away, then picked up the razor from where he’d felt the sharp edge._

_“So it begins…” Will whispered, fingering the silver skull-pin affixed to his shirt-pocket. He didn’t even notice the slight twinge of red that the silver took on as his blood was smeared on it. He didn’t even notice that the pin almost seemed to throb with perverse pleasure at being fed blood. “Nico…” whispered Will into the night as he drew the razor against the skin of his arm. He hissed at the pain, but relished it at the same time. “Nico I’m so sorry…” he lamented to no one in particular._

_“I’m still here…” he said, his voice sounding so pathetic and piteous that the second slash across his arm was deeper and more vicious than the last. Will bit back a scream. The pain was immense, but it was still nowhere near what he’d felt that night that Nico vanished. “I’m still waiting for you…” he whispered, almost begging, into the night. “I won’t ever forget…” he said, after etching the third and fourth lines into his skin. Blood was now dripping freely down his arm. “When you come back I’ll be right here…”_

_Will’s entire body slumped forward, and his arm hung slack at his side for a moment as he was racked by a violent sobbing. His tears mingled with the blood splattered on the floor. “I’m so sorry…” he said, voice raw and rough. Will drew a deep, shuddering breath, then turned his attention back to trying to relive excruciating agony of that fateful night._

_Will slashed his arm three more times in quick succession, just barely able to keep himself from crying out loud from the pain he was inflicting on himself, but all the same, it was not enough. “Not…” he groaned. He was beginning to pale. The room was already filled with the metallic scent of blood. “Not enough…” he growled at himself. Another four slashes. Will started shaking, tears coming more powerfully now than before. It still wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Nothing like the sheer visceral anguish that had radiated from Nico, and reduced him to a convulsing mess on the floor._

_Will turned his other arm over, clutching the razor in blood-slicked fingers. The smell of blood was almost overpowering now. If there had been light, Will was pretty sure that the bed would be mostly red around where he sat._

_Will drew another thin line across his other arm, but this time, the razor slipped, creating a ragged wound that hurt a lot, but still, even compounded with all the other slashes, not enough. He tried again and got the same results. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. That was the mantra that was going through Will’s head as he etched a series of slashes across his arm from about an inch under his wrist up to his elbow. It was never going to be enough. Will looked at the bottle sitting on the table. It was contraband as per camp rules, but he’d managed to convince the Stoll brothers to get it for him._

_It was alcohol. Vodka, to be exact. It was of the highest proof that the Stoll brothers could get their hands on. As Will looked at it, a morbid idea began to form in the back of his mind. He flung the razor across the room. It hit a wall, where it stuck fast because of the blood on its surface. Then Will picked up the bottle gingerly, trying not to drop it with his blood-slicked hands._

_Fortunately, he’d left it open. The cork lying somewhere in the dark with him. Will grimaced. Then, he took a swig directly from the bottle, eyes, mouth, and throat burning from the sheer strength of the alcohol. A flush crept into Will’s cheeks, and he trembled as he pondered what he was about to do. Then he thought back to the night that Nico had vanished. His resolve fell into place instantly._

_Will took the bottle with one hand, then upended it on his left arm, the one with the ragged gashes. He was pretty sure he bit his lip, but it was the most he could do to not scream out in pain. It was still not enough. Using his left hand he poured vodka on his right arm and brought both his arms together. Finally, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He howled in agony, falling to the floor, where the bottle of alcohol broke against the ground, cracking up the side. Will fell into the puddle of blood, tears, and vodka that was on the floor. The little shards of glass there bit into his knees, making him scream in even more pain._

_And yet, despite all of that, he knew that it was still nothing like the pain he’d experienced that night that Nico had left. All of a sudden, the door to the cabin flew open with a bang. Standing in the doorway, illuminated and outlined by a halo of silver moonlight was Jason Grace. “Will…” he whispered, voice laced with terror, concern, and sympathy. “Will, what are you doing?” asked the son of Jupiter, rushing to Will’s side. “I thought you promised…” Jason’s voice caught in his throat as he smelled the distinct smell of alcohol. “Will…” he said. “Nevermind, let’s get you off the floor.”_

_It wasn’t until Jason set Will down on the bed that he noticed that the bed itself was sticky with blood. Will was still in a trance. his face was contorted in profound agony, but his eyes were blank and staring off into the distance. “Will!” said Jason, slapping Will’s cheek gently, shaking the son of Apollo from his stupor. “Will, you have to heal yourself. You’re going to die if you lose much more blood…” Jason’s voice was so terrified, so afraid, that Will’s chest ached with guilt. “Will, please…” begged Jason._

_Will gulped audibly. “Okay. Okay” he said, barely managing the words, with his hoarse, croaky voice. “I’m sorry…” he said as he began to glow with light, and the wounds all over his body began to close. “I’m sorry I’m such a fuck-up, Jason…” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry…”_

_Jason wrapped his arms around Will, who then buried his bloodied, tear-streaked face into Jason’s chest. “It’s okay…” whispered Jason soothingly. “It’s okay…” he said, brushing Will’s hair with his hand and burying his nose in the other boy’s soft blond hair. “Just… Please… Try, Will.”_

_“I did…” said Will, shaking in Jason’s arms. “I did try… I was too weak…” he said. It was true. He’d been unable to resist the temptation. “I just… I can’t… I don’t want to forget Nico… I don’t want to forget the pain that I caused him…”_

_Jason looked at Will, then frowned. “Will, why do you want to remember that?” he asked. “Why don’t you want to remember the good times instead? Aren’t the happy memories more powerful?” Will scowled at Jason. “Sometimes you have to forget the pain so that you can move on…” Will jumped off the bed and almost fell over, but he supported himself and shoved Jason away._

_“What do you mean move on?” Will demanded. “Nico being gone is_ my _fault. I can’t just run away from that by… moving on!” he shouted, walking towards the door, unsteadily._

_Jason was faster than him, unfortunately. Jason slammed the door shut and stood in Will’s way. The son of Apollo snarled at the son of Jupiter. “Okay, you don’t have to forget… But sometimes you have to let yourself forget for a little while so you won’t do stupid things like this…” said Jason. “Try to forget. Just for tonight.”_

_“No. Now get out of my way, Grace. I don’t want to be with anyone right now” snapped Will._

_“No” said Jason, simply, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “No. You’re going to forget all about your guilt for one night. Tonight. Or gods help me, I will gut you” he said. Will opened his mouth to respond, but he was silenced when Jason wrapped his hands around the back of Will’s neck and pulled him in for a steamy kiss._

_“Will…” he whispered, after moving away. Jason looked into Will’s eyes. They were already blank. A heartbeat later, Will went limp in Jason’s arms. “Will, I love you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first off: I have a request of you. I just posted an original fiction story of mine. It's called _[On Dreamer's Wings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2783405/chapters/6243899)_. It's the tragic story of a young man that fell in love with an angel who believed he was nothing more than a dream. I hope you'll give it a gander? Pretty please?  <3\. After all, I just put Nico and Will officially together... :3. Click the link up there to get taken to it. <3.
> 
> Anyway, now that that's out of the way. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I sure did. Well, I was rather uncomfortable writing Will's scene, but I felt it necessary for the advancement of the plot. I'd like to hear your thoughts on the story! Also, if you have any feels you want to send my way... My tumblr is open for them! [Malkuthe Highwind.](http://malkuthe-highwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	5. Trapped

Apollo slammed his mortal fist against the Valdezinator. The pain that shot up his arm right after had become something of a daily ritual, right after he ate spit-roasted rabbit, roots, shoots and berries. It was frustrating beyond belief. He couldn’t afford to even attempt to hit the stupid instrument with his godly half. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to crush the damn thing.

What stung more than the pain that numbed his whole arm, however, was the fact that Apollo, for all his godly knowledge and musical expertise, could not figure out at all how to work the Valdezinator. He’d justified it to himself as the result of the Valdezinator being more of an invention than an instrument.

Apollo, at this point, would have been about ready to kill for tutelage in how to play the fucking thing. He didn’t care if it would be a near-permanent wound on his pride. He just wanted to get out of dreary Siberia and maybe eat something that was actually substantial. From what he could tell, every day, animals wandered into his ‘territory,’ but just enough to keep him functioning normally. Frankly, Apollo was sick of rabbit-meat.

For three years Apollo had languished in his rebuilt log-cabin. If he ever got out of this punishment of his, Apollo was going to make sure that Hephaestus knew not to bring down other gods’ log-cabins. It had taken him hours to build the cabin, and even longer to rebuild it properly, and all because Hephaestus had thought it would be funny to make a point of how bad Apollo’s engineering skills were.

Apollo was the kid that was supposed to sit around at the dining table looking pretty, then play musical instruments to woo the ladies and the gents afterwards. He wasn’t supposed to know engineering. He’d been lucky the whole damn thing hadn’t collapsed on him when he was building it.

Three years, Apollo had suffered in the wilderness of Siberia. Fortunately, his godly side exuded enough warmth to keep his mortal side safe from the year-long biting cold. Early on in this punishment of his, Apollo had learned how to moderate the amount of heat he produced, so that now, he was more than comfortable, standing around naked, without needing a fire to warm him. All that aside, Apollo still needed a fire to roast his catches over.

Unfortunately, it seemed that not even death could free Apollo from this stupid punishment of Zeus’. He’d tried, that first year. He’d tried to hang himself with twisted bark cord fashioned into a hangman’s noose. He’d thought he was getting away with it when his mortal half started asphyxiating, but apparently, his muscled, gorgeous, godly side had a neck strong enough to snap the makeshift rope.

After that, Apollo had tried to gut himself, literally. He didn’t care about the pain. For some reason he didn’t really feel it that much. Needless to say, that one had been a disappointment as well. Apollo had thought it would be a great way to go, and that in the future, there would be people writing haikus about the mighty and gorgeous god of the sun who committed _seppuku_ because he was sick of his father’s curse.

If there was one thing that Apollo had learned over the last three years, it was that he wanted one thing more than anything: to find Zeus, and wring the stuck-up King of Olympus’ neck for this totally unfair punishment of arguably the most handsome god in all of creation.

The son of Leto shook his fist at the sky. Apollo had started thinking of himself not as his father’s son, but as his mother’s. It was a shame that the gods had very little in terms of an actual administrative, judicial system. If they did, Apollo would have made disowning Zeus the first thing on his list of things to do when he became a god again.

Just then, Apollo heard a loud rustling in the forest, along with the dull booms of a half-dozen trees falling over in the distance. It sounded like there was an automaton out there. Apollo peered out the open doorway to his cabin, eyebrow cocked. He was curious and he wanted to explore, but he’d learned the hard way that there were limits to where he could go. Apollo couldn’t travel past the ring of flattened trees that marked the radius of the explosion that had stripped him of half his divinity three years ago.

At the same time, Apollo didn’t want to leave his cabin because he didn’t want to risk some stupid, ugly mortal stumbling in on his clearing and not being able to leave. It was bad enough having to deal with the Valdezinator. He didn’t want to have to deal with another mortal. That being said, however, Apollo would not have objected if it was a particularly attractive man that walked into the clearing. If there was another thing that Apollo wanted to have, it was some action of the sexual kind.

Unfortunately it didn’t seem like the two explorers that were approaching his clearing were being warned away by the ring of flattened trees. That being said, he didn’t think they were particularly ugly, and he needed someone to praise his good qualities anyway.

Apollo needed someone to compliment him every once in a while. His good looks needed some more praising, and not just from himself, whenever he looked at his face after cleaning it in the mornings in the stream that ran through his clearing. That was just a little bit too narcissistic.

“Greetings, strangers!” he yelled, jumping out of his cabin. The couple that was approaching crossed the boundary. The otherwise-invisible dome that kept Apollo confined shimmered and rippled, becoming visible because of the turbulence for a few moments. Apollo frowned at the magic. “Welcome to Ogygia!” he said with a lopsided grin. “Just kidding. No. This is my personal Ogygia.”

“Father thought it would be funny to curse me, the most handsome god in all of crea—” Apollo blinked once he finally got a good long look on just who had actually come into his clearing. “Oh. It’s you” he snorted derisively at the sight of Leo Valdez. “Goodbye! Leave, please! Forget the welcome!”

Leo frowned at the man that was talking to them. It took him a little bit to register the one strange thing about this other guy who looked a lot like a teenager. Well, of course, it was strange that there was a young guy out in the middle of Siberia, but Leo wasn’t about to judge. He was strange himself, going around the world with his girlfriend on the back of a mechanical bronze dragon was about as strange as he thought a person could get.

No, what he realized was this young man standing before him was completely butt-naked, and seemingly not even so slightly ashamed about it. He’d told Calypso it was a bad idea to land in Siberia. That being said, Leo hadn’t thought that a nudist teenager living out in the wild was the reason it was be a bad idea.

“Oi!” he shouted. “Dude! Grab a fig leaf!” Apollo scowled at Leo. “Or I dunno, grab some pine roots or something. Just…” Leo gesticulated his hands wildly at Apollo. “Just cover up!” The whole Ogygia comment sailed right over Leo’s head. Meanwhile, Calypso was shaking with barely-contained rage.

Calypso shoved Leo out of the way and walked up to Apollo, index finger stretched. “Ogygia is no joke!” she shouted. “Who on earth do you think you… are…” Calpyso tilted her head and recognized the other guy.

Leo felt somewhat jealous that Calypso was looking at another guy naked, but he didn’t really care at the moment, because _he_ didn’t want to look. Leo turned away. “Lord Apollo…” asked Calypso. “Your father cursed you?” she asked, tentatively. Of all the gods that Zeus could curse, both she and Apollo knew that it was Apollo that was most likely, but it still didn’t seem very characteristic of Zeus to send Apollo somewhere so far away from the domain of the gods.

Apollo sighed and looked down. He spotted a rather sharp stone. He bent down to pick it up as Calypso tugged at the sleeve of Leo’s shirt and said “Leo.” Leo grumbled. “Stop being such a prude. It’s not like you’ve not seen a naked guy before.” Of course, Calypso was an immortal nymph, so it didn’t really matter that much for her whether someone was naked or dressed, only, she preferred the latter.

“Yeah” said Apollo as he brought down the rock with surprising speed on his mortal-side arm. He winced in pain as the sharp stone broke his skin and made him bleed, sending rivulets of crimson blood streaming down his arm. Calypso nodded in understanding.

Then Apollo did something else. The once-god of prophecy took the rock and brought it down on his arm on the godly side of his body, gasping in surprise when he noticed that it was able to spill his ichor just by willing it so. Golden liquid flowed from the wound. “Real funny, right? He made me into a literal demi-god.”

“Hold on, hold on!” said Leo, turning around with a hand covering his eyes. “Literal demi-god?” he asked, genuinely confused. Calypso looked at Leo, sighed, then pulled Leo’s hand down so he could see Apollo’s arms bleeding different kinds of blood.

Leo frowned for a moment, not getting it. Then it dawned on him. “Oh!” Leo pointed at Apollo’s arms. Calypso rolled her eyes. “That’s what you meant!” he said, somehow sounding both incredibly curious and appalled. “So…” said Leo. “You’re literally half-mortal, half-god?” he asked. “I thought _I_ was a demigod.”

“Well…” said Apollo, trying to think of how to best explain the whole demigod thing. “You’re really only half-god in the sense that half of your family is godly… I, on the other hand—” said Apollo, running a finger up and down the median of his body. “—am literally half-god.”

To further demonstrate his point, Apollo walked over to one of the fallen trees, which, surprisingly, after three years, was still in pristine condition. Apollo raised the trunk over his head effortlessly with his right arm. Detritus rained down from the tree. Then he passed it to his left hand, promptly dropping it with a dull boom.

Leo scowled. “Eugh.” Leo made a sound of discomfort. “That’s weird.” He said, unable to resist wondering about whether or not it all meant that half of Apollo’s junk was literally godly as well, and, if he fathered any children in his current state, whether those children would be quarter-gods.

Leo shook his head and blinked furiously. Why the fuck was he thinking about another man’s junk? “Well, as much as we would love to stay, Lord Apollo, team Leo doesn’t really feel up to being vaporized by a lightning bolt or blasted out of the sky by an angry Zeus. Right, Calypso?” There was no response from Calypso. “Right, Calypso?” Leo asked again, feeling rather apprehensive. The nymph nodded slowly, but looked hesitant. “Good, I was thinking maybe you would sa—nevermind. Come on. Let’s get back to Festus.”

“Alright” said Calypso, looking back at Apollo with sympathy before taking Leo’s hand and walking back the way they came. Apollo was about to say something about the magical barrier, but he decided to let events play out as they would. He needed entertainment anyway.

Leo was the one that met the barrier first. Fortunately, he let go of Calypso’s hand the instant that the magic of the barrier hurled him back, sailing through a good twenty to thirty feet, making him skid to a halt just short of Apollo’s feet. “Oh! Oh! Man! Ew!” he said in distress, realizing that he was looking up at Apollo’s manhood.

Calypso made a sound of frustration as she walked back to where the barrier had hurled Leo. “Well…” she said. “That’s certainly more heavy-handed than whatever had been keeping me at Ogygia” said the nymph, though she had little love for the island she’d spent so many torturous long years on. “Zeus must have said you have to do something before you could leave this place…” said Calypso, genuinely curious about what the conditions for lifting the curse were.

Apollo shrugged. Leo picked himself up off the ground, pointedly looking _anywhere else_ but at Apollo’s dangling cock and balls. “Really?” Leo asked, in disbelief as he brushed off dirt, leaves, and other assorted debris from his pants and shirt. “Not even an ‘Are you okay, Leo?’ or maybe ‘Are you hurt?’ Heck, even a hand to help me up would have been appreciated.

Both Apollo and Calypso ignored Leo’s protests. Then Apollo looked from the nymph, to the son of Hephaestus, then back again. Leo pouted. “Oh, great!” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I love ‘don’t pay any attention at all to the hurt demigod’ day!”

Calypso rolled her eyes at Leo. “Shut up, Leo” she said, playfully. “You’re barely even scratched” she said, frowning at her lover and companion to make sure that the words she’d just spoken were indeed true. Satisfied that Leo was not significantly injured or banged up, she turned back to Apollo and followed him when he beckoned them towards his cabin.

“It’s not that!” said Leo. “It’s a matter of principle!” he protested. Calypso rolled her eyes, now about ten paces away from Leo. The son of Hephaestus scowled, but quickened his pace to catch up to the two immortals.

“No way…” breathed Leo, standing just outside the threshold of Apollo’s makeshift cabin. He was stunned. The Valdezinator in all its glory was standing in the middle of the floor. That, and there was a pile of rabbit fur and bones in a corner that made him want to puke. “Holy Hephaestus, what is this thing doing here?”

“Exactly that,” grumbled Apollo. “Hephaestus brought it here… Well, after Zeus smashed it,” continued the god, sitting down in a corner, — not the one with the bunny carcasses — looking altogether too grumpy to be bothered with explaining any further.

Half-heartedly, Apollo lobbed a pebble at the infernal machine, managing to get the little stone stuck between two levers, just where he’d been aiming at. Apollo’s eyes brightened for a moment. He still had his skill with projectiles! He wasn’t really able to practice given that he lacked the materials to make a bow, much less a good one.

Apollo had tried to make a bow. Oh how he’d tried and tried and tried again, despite many nights of crying himself to sleep because of how splintered and raw his fingers had become. The first bow’s rope had been far too loose. The second one snapped in his face and left him with an inch-wide welt that stretched from the top of his cheekbone to his jaw. The third one was half-decent, but he’d accidentally burned it to a crisp when he realized he’d used the wrong kind of wood.

“What do you have to do with it?” asked Leo. Then a sudden look of horror crossed his face. “Man, please tell me you don’t have to smash it too!” he begged, walking over to the machine and examining it for the first time in a long while.

The Valdezinator was as beautifully eccentric as it had been on the day of its birth. Almost by instinct, Leo’s hands danced across the machine, turning cranks, manipulating gears, moving levers as they had done all those years ago. The same melody that he’d played then rang from the machine.

The music was still somewhat forlorn and soulful, but now, it was happier. Distinctly so. Apollo looked up from where he had been busy sulking, eyes wet with tears as the music moved him. It was the same tune. Apollo could tell. But the richness and texture of the notes was so different.

When Leo was done, Calypso was in tears. Apollo, on the other hand, was on his feet, glaring at the son of Hephaestus. Calypso ran at Leo and hugged him with enough momentum it almost knocked him off his feet. She kissed him, making Apollo wish he had someone to kiss him like that.

Apollo grimaced. He shouldn’t have been thinking like that. There was no time for romance right now. First he had to get out of this damnable curse that Zeus had placed on him. Apollo pointed at Leo’s hands, still resting on the instrument, and said, simply, “That.”

\----------

Nico raised an eyebrow at Will. “Isn’t this a strange time to go to the Empire State Building, Will?” he asked. He’d not thought that Will would suggest going through that much trouble just because he had a few missing memories. Not to mention he was in recovery. It just didn’t seem very Will-like to want Nico to move around unnecessarily already. “Can’t it wait until after we’re all caught up again?” he asked when Will remained pensively silent. Nico also wasn’t sure that he was ready to confront the gods with the knowledge he’d managed to amass over the past three years.

While Nico had been gone, shielded from the purview of the gods by a particular trick he’d learned in Tartarus, Nico had discovered many things; old magics, new weapons, schemes against the gods that were as ancient as the very foundations of Olympus itself…

The gods had many enemies, especially amongst the primordial evils and their brood. When he’d reappeared at camp earlier in the day, it had been because he barely managed to escape alive after he’d made sure that the plans of those ancient evils would be set back for months.

“It’s been three years,” said Nico, sighing. “I don’t want to ruin this good day with trouble,” he said. It was true. That was part of his reason. But there was also the part of him that was terrified with bringing his knowledge to the table, just in case it made Zeus fly into one of his legendary panics again.

The look on Will’s face was so conflicted, Nico couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Nico could tell that Will was very much concerned with him, but as Nico had said, he didn’t want to soil a perfectly good day because of something that didn’t really need immediate attention.

Nevertheless, Nico knew that they would eventually need to prepare. Olympus could not afford to stand divided in any way at this point in time. The things that Nico had seen in those three years, and, even, just earlier that day, did not paint a very pretty picture.

They would paint an even worse picture, in the ashes of burning cities and the spilled blood of innocents, if Olympus was unable to stand united against the foe that was threatening them all. “Will” said Nico firmly, snapping the other boy out of his thinking.

“I know you want to get to the bottom of why I’m missing memories…” he said, trailing off, and making sure to look Will in the eye. “But let’s just enjoy the day, okay?” he asked. Pleaded, even, with his eyes.

Part of what had changed with Nico in the three years he’d been away was his confidence. He carried himself with much more certainty than he ever had before. Without a doubt, having to hunt down the oldest gods of Wales had contributed to it, but that was beyond the point. “I am curious, though…” said Nico, looking at Will, who was starting to look like he was about to fall asleep again. “What do you mean by ‘the ones we could still talk to’”

That part of what Will had said made no sense whatsoever to Nico. Will blinked. Then he yawned. “Well…” said Will, looking at his new boyfriend, unsure of how to explain the rather complicated and delicate situation of the gods of Olympus. “Olympus is closed. To _everyone._ ”

Nico’s blood ran cold in his veins. He remembered that distinctly feminine, distinctly sinister voice just the other night. “ _Olympus will be of no help to you, demigod._ ”

Nico shivered. No. This wasn’t happening. This shouldn’t be happening. Olympus needed to be whole! Nico breathed deeply. Maybe they could persevere in the coming months without the gods. They’d managed to avert crises without the gods before. Or at least without their intervention until the last moment.

Nico tilted his head at Will. “No, you don’t understand, Nico,” said Will, insisting. “It’s closed to _everyone_. And that includes _all_ the gods that weren’t on Olympus the day it was closed.” Nico’s blood ran even colder. Estranged from the seat of their power, the Olympians, his father now included, would be weakened almost perversely.

The look of horror on Nico’s face must have stayed there for a split-second longer than he’d wanted because the frown on Will’s face deepened even more. “What are you not telling me, Nico?” asked Will. The head healer had the audacity to look hurt.

“What are you hiding from me?” asked Will, voice suddenly small. “You know something and you’re not saying anything…” The hurt was palpable in Will’s voice. “You know you can trust me, right?” said Will. “You can tell me anything…” Nico wasn’t so sure of that.

Not yet, at least. That wasn’t the reason he suddenly felt a surge of anger in his veins. He probably shouldn’t have become angry, but he did nonetheless. “We’ve been apart for three fucking years, Solace,” Nico snapped. “And you have the gall to insinuate that I’m hiding something from you?”

The hurt look on Will’s face deepened. Will’s jaw tightened. He looked like he was about to launch on a diatribe of his own, but Nico didn’t let him speak. “So what if I am hiding something? I may like you. You may like me…” Nico trailed off, blushing, as the anger seeped away like sand through a sieve.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Will. I do. Just not completely.” Will’s eyes were wide and full of hurt, but Nico didn’t want to lie. As much as he might have tried in three years to get over his trust issues, events had not been very conducive. Besides. Cynicism such as his, caused by misery that not even Misery herself could improve upon, was something that could not be erased as easily as that.

“That…” said Nico, wincing as Will avoided his eyes. “That, and there are things I can’t tell you yet. Not until I talk to the gods. Not until I can figure out what’s going on.” Will was still avoiding Nico’s gaze. “I told you, Will. Three years. It was a long time. It felt even longer for me.” Nico heaved a sigh. The Fates were cruel.

“So many things happened…” For a moment, Nico could have sworn that he felt the touch of Wyn’s lips against his skin, and he shuddered, colouring visibly. “You wouldn’t understand some of the things I did. Not yet.” What he did with Wyn? Nico was sure Will would _never_ understand. He’d been feeling so lonely back then…

“Before we get back to being all happy and celebratory because I’ve come back…” Nico tried to smile, but it came out half-hearted. Will’s scowl just deepened. Nico shrugged. He tried. “I need you to tell me which of the gods we still have contact with.”

Will stiffened at the question. Once Nico had started talking over him, Will hadn’t wanted to talk. He was afraid that his voice would break. It did. On the first word. Eventually, he managed to regain his composure. After all, he couldn’t blame Nico. Nico was right.

As much as they had mutual feelings for each other, that didn’t mean that they automatically trusted the other. Trust was something that came with time. Time that they had had precious little of before Nico had vanished, and barely any of now that he’d returned. “Your dad, Poseidon, Athena, Hestia, Hecate, Dionysus, Demeter…”

Will frowned. “Those are the major ones I can think of off the top of my head right now. Nike, Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite, Hermes, Ares, Hephaestus… They’re all still on Olympus. As for Artemis and my dad…” Will sighed. Apollo wasn’t the best father, but he was still Will’s father.

“The Hunters have been looking for Artemis and… well… dad… for the longest time,” Will shook his head. “They haven’t found either yet.” Nico grimaced. He’d returned in the middle of a crisis, with another one on his heels. He’d returned to a whole clusterfuck of questions with no answers forthcoming.

Nico’s brows furrowed in thought. This was all very concerning. He would not have enough time to do what he needed to do. He would have to seek the assistance of his father. “Mr. D said that it was the night before you vanished that things started to go awry with Olympus. We’re lucky the greater part of Iris was elsewhere that night. She was probably on break. At least we can still send and receive Iris-messages for the time-being.”

It was only then that Nico picked up on a tidbit of information that Will had shared that just made no sense. “How is Hestia trapped outside of Olympus?” Of the fourteen major gods, Hestia seemed to be the least likely to not have the greater part of her essence on Olympus. Unless. Nico’s eyes went wide. “Hestia’s essence. It’s split in half?”

Will nodded solemnly. “She’s the patron of every hearth and home, so even if a greater portion of her essence is on Olympus, she’s also everywhere the gods of Greece have purview…” said Nico. Will nodded again. Hestia had been distraught over losing contact with half of herself. She could not protect the hearth nearly as well as she normally could.

“That’s exactly how Athena explained it…” said Will, surprised that Nico had hit upon almost exactly what Athena had said. “She can’t even communicate with the other part of herself. Olympus has been sealed behind extremely powerful magic. Not even the combined efforts of the gods around could pierce that veil.”

Will noted the intensifying look of distress that was darkening Nico’s face. “Look, Nico. I don’t want to accuse you of anything but if you know something that might be important… Something that, I dunno, might warn us of danger that’s coming unless we manage to get through to Olympus… Please, tell me…”

Nico glared at Will for a moment. He wanted to point out that the moment anyone said that they didn’t want to either accuse or offend someone else, they were probably about to do just that. Will was no exception. Nico didn’t appreciate the near-accusation. But then, Nico sighed, and his expression softened.

“I will,” said Nico, relenting. Then he kicked himself mentally. “When the time is right,” he said hastily, to clarify. Will frowned, but he decided that if he wanted Nico to trust him, he had to trust Nico as well. “We can’t do anything about it right now. It’s just one night. Just a party. Let’s enjoy it.”

Will smiled at Nico. He _was_ still happy that Nico was back, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t concerned. “ _We_ can think about saving the world another day.”

Will couldn’t help the blush that crept up his face from his neck when Nico emphasized the word _we_. Nico patted Will on the shoulder. Will jumped in surprise at the unprompted touch. Will smiled at Nico, but it was probably more forced than he’d wanted it to be.

The smile that Nico shot him back was just as artificial. They, the demigods of Greece and Rome were on the cusp of something that would throw their world into chaos. In truth, it would throw the _entire_ world into chaos. This was larger than anything they had ever faced before. Nico was sure of it.

Nico was certain that he’d slowed whatever plans were currently in motion down to practically a crawl, but evil always found a way, just like good, in the end, always found some way to prevail. Yet, somehow, Nico couldn’t help but think that this was much, much more than just good against evil.

The two demigods spent a good five minutes just looking at each other in silence. Will couldn’t help but smile at Nico. The son of Hades was at first looking at him with a pensive, unreadable expression that suddenly broadened into a smile that made Will’s poor heart flutter in his chest. With an audible gulp, Will piped up, “We should go.” Nico nodded in agreement.

Will was not going to mess things up this time. Nico had returned his feelings. Nico was actually his _boyfriend_ now. While they didn’t know whether or not it would work out in the end, Will was certain that he would be damned if he didn’t try.

Nico swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Nico was feeling far stronger than he’d felt earlier, when he’d woken up. He wasn’t sure whether the same could be said of Will, however. If anything, though, beyond the sleepiness that seemed to have overtaken the son of Apollo, he was, for the most part, alright.

Will jumped up from where he sat, then swayed unsteadily for a moment before supporting himself on the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?” asked Nico, somewhat concerned. Will nodded, unwilling to speak, because nausea suddenly washed over him. “Are you sure?” Will nodded, more fervently this time. Nico frowned, but said nothing. “Okay. If you say so,” he said, starting to walk towards the door of the infirmary.

Will was a few steps behind Nico, but just far enough that Nico couldn’t see what Will was doing. The son of Apollo pulled at the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable with the heat that was radiating from his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Leo and Calypso get trapped with Apollo, and we check back in on Will and Nico, who are talking about the situation with the gods.
> 
> What's going on with Will? *gasp* Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And please, leave your comments, I'd love to hear your thoughts and your feedback. What do you think's going to happen next? How do you think Leo and Calypso are going to help Apollo get out of his curse? What do you think is going on with Will?
> 
> It's going to be explained soon enough, but I'd like to see your speculation! Anyway, as always, send me a question if you'd like, to my tumblr! [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask). I'm open to personal questions, jussayin'!


	6. De Civitate Deos

Jason and Piper were sitting side-by-side on the wharf where Jason’s speedboat was docked. Their feet were bare. Their shoes, and socks, were sitting next to them. The gentle waves of the Sound, and some from the wake of the boats carrying campers off to Theopolis, were lapping at their feet.

Jason was leaning backwards, his upper body propped up by his arms on the cool marble of the wharf. The two demigods were watching the setting sun, and how it turned the waters golden, and painted the skies awash with brilliant colours. They’d been sitting like this, in silence, for the last few minutes.

Piper sighed and leaned back like Jason, looking to the side at the guy that she’d called boyfriend not too long ago. She was sad that things hadn’t worked out, but she had come to understand that it was probably for the best that they hadn’t tried to force things to work. Piper might not have been as wise or intelligent as Annabeth, but she knew a handful of things, especially about love, because of her heritage. If they’d forced things, Piper was sure that she and Jason would have just ended up mutually miserable.

Nevertheless, there were still days when she thought about what could have been. If things had remained as they were, if things had not changed so dramatically over the years, Piper was sure that she and Jason would still have been together. Needless to say, it was a vain hope.

They both had their duties. Piper, to her siblings, to her dad, and making sure that Drew never again terrorized the children of Aphrodite. Jason’s had been far more burdensome. He’d been away very often, travelling all over the country to erect shrines to various minor gods and goddesses to ensure that they would be allies, and never again enemies.

Jason’s duties as _pontifex maximus_ had given him a lot of pull in both the camps, but at the same time, as a result, he’d had to sacrifice a lot of his time. The distance and the lack of time spent together had put a strain on their relationship. There was a point when they would argue every time Jason got back that Jason would just stop visiting Piper first when he returned to Camp Half-Blood.

Piper looked up at a rather fortunate moment and saw two particular demigods leaving the infirmary. The daughter of Aphrodite looked at the two. From this distance, it was difficult to tell anything about them, but with great interest, she noted how their glances at each other seemed to linger. That she could tell from as far as she was sitting was testament to how obvious they were.

As the two boys approached, Piper began to see tics in Will’s manner. He fidgeted every two seconds. As though he wanted to touch Nico in some manner. Then every so often, when Nico was not looking, Will would pull at his collar, as though it were far too constricting.

“I think they’ve actually confessed to each other…” said Piper, out of the blue. Her voice was level, which was saying something. She was quite glad that she had been able to suppress the squeal of delight that very nearly accompanied the epiphany that had struck her.

Jason’s eyes grew wide, and he followed the direction that Piper was looking. There was a sudden profound sadness in his eyes, and in the set of his shoulders, as he slumped forward somewhat. Thankfully, Piper was too busy looking at the two other demigods to notice.

When Jason turned to face her, he was grinning pretty much as widely as Piper was, though upon further investigation, one would have seen that the grin was rather forced. “Oh my gods…” said Piper, still just barely able to contain her elation. “Wouldn’t they look so good together?” she practically squealed.

For once, Piper took a moment to appreciate just how much Nico had changed in his three years away. He was definitely taller than the boy that he had been not too long ago. He _was_ still shorter than Will, though, who’d grown taller himself, to the chagrin of Jason.

Nico was now also more handsome. He was still attractive in a similar way as he had been three years ago, but now he’d matured, and he no longer looked so profoundly world-weary. That only added to his allure. The set of Nico’s jaw was stronger. His posture was more sure, more confident. There was an air of life about him, despite the fact that even from where they sat on the wharf, Piper could tell that Nico was still struggling with fatigue. Jason’s eyes would’ve betrayed his sadness to Piper, but he looked at the two again to avoid her discerning gaze.

Jason looked at Nico and Will, approaching slowly from the Big House. There was nothing he wanted more in the world at that moment to be walking beside them, either beside Nico or Will. He loved them both. As he’d been watching the setting sun earlier, he came to terms with that fact. Jason Grace was in love. Not with a girl. Not even with one guy. He was in love with two guys. As if his life needed any more complications right now. Thankfully, his work as _pontifex_ would mean he would have much needed distraction from it all.

“They would…” Jason began, unable to suppress the sigh that escaped his lips then. “Wouldn’t they?” he asked. Piper nodded enthusiastically. Jason’s reaction was far more morose. He was tempted to ask, “What if I was there with them? Would we look great together, too?” Of everyone, Jason knew that Piper would understand, yet he was filled with great apprehension over asking that particular question.

Jason and Piper had broken up six months ago. Jason had confessed, rather carefully, that things had changed between them. And while Piper had flipped out on him back then, Jason had later learned from her that she had been somewhat relieved that he’d come to her about it. Ever since the war with Gaea, she’d been frustrated with Jason’s constant absences in serving as _pontifex_ and the fact that he just didn’t seem as _interested_ anymore.

It had been a source of constant negativity that Piper, inexorably, took out on Jason, creating a vicious cycle that would have eventually torn them apart had they remained together for much longer. In fact, to this day, Piper was relieved that while they’d parted on somewhat bad terms, that they’d elected to do so of their own volition, than as a result of a fight where things that could not be rescinded could have been said.

There was another thing that had set the stage for the romantic drama of the century in the camp. Jason had admitted to her that he’d thought about what it would be like to be with a guy, for once. Jason had not told Piper that he was having those thoughts because of Will Solace, but afterwards, Jason fervently denied that he was gay. He used the only term he could think of: bicurious.

Now that Piper had a better handle on Jason, she realized that he had not been lying about not being gay. She could tell that Jason was not fixated on the idea of being with guys, but that he just didn’t _care_. Pansexual. That was a word that she had taught Jason. He liked it.

All things said and done, the ‘romantic drama of the century’ as some of the campers called it, had not really been that big at all, Piper reminisced. The first month and a half or so of their break-up had been filled with absolutely no communication whatsoever. The first two weeks, Piper was on a quest with Annabeth and Reyna.

It had been an unofficial quest, but then again, all quests were. The Sibylline books had yet to yield anything useful. Rachel still couldn’t perform her Oracle duties. The quest that Piper had embarked on with Reyna and Annabeth had been given to them by Athena. Mostly because on that day they had been the ones on break when the goddess started looking for heroes. The quest had been to procure a magical crystal that could be used as a focus for the anchoring magic for the bridge to the Theopolis. They’d succeeded, of course.

Just as Piper returned, Jason was off to Camp Jupiter for four weeks, directing the construction of shrines to minor Roman gods and goddesses. Thankfully, after that, they’d managed to get some time to talk to each other, on more civil terms.

They had decided to remain friends for the time being. They’d also agreed that should any feelings be reignited, and provided they were not already seeing someone else, that they would try to get together again. As far as Piper was concerned, nothing of the sort had happened yet.

Piper noticed Jason’s melancholy when he finally started speaking again. “Remember when we first got together?” he asked, eyes riveted to the two boys coming down to the wharf. They were walking awfully slowly, he noted. That being said, Will wasn’t in very good shape when he’d left.

Piper rolled her eyes at Jason, but she was concerned. “Tell me about it,” she said, jokingly, memories from their ‘honeymoon phase,’ when they were all lovey-dovey and sickly sweet, returning to her. She could tell something was on Jason’s mind, but she couldn’t quite guess at it.

“Do you ever…” Jason’s voice lost its strength for a moment. Piper’s breath hitched in her throat. The son of Jupiter turned to her, eyes sparkling with what looked like unshed tears. Piper was about to say something, but Jason sighed, then started talking again. “Do you ever find yourself wondering whether or not it would work out if we tried again?” he asked.

In truth, there was one thing that Jason Grace needed now more than anything. He craved love. He craved affection. He’d had that with Piper, but he’d gone and fucked that up enough for both of them that it wouldn’t ever happen again. Nevertheless, he felt obliged to ask. “Do you ever find yourself missing being as close as we used to be, Pipes?” asked Jason, voice small.

Piper froze where she sat, the waves tickling her feet, and the wind blowing her hair about. Could Jason be asking her to get back together? “I’m not asking because I want to get back together with you…” said Jason. “I was just genuinely wondering. We _were_ together for a long time, after all…” Piper breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Jason, though the smile was somewhat sour.

“The better question, Jason, is when do I not?” said Piper, unable to help the pinch of sadness that crept into her voice. It wasn’t regretful. It was anything but. She’d understood that they had to part ways because things weren’t going to get any better. She was just sad for something she once had but no longer did.

“I don’t want to get back together with you either.” Jason smiled, though somewhat bitterly. “No offense,” Piper hastily added. “But yeah, I do wonder whether it would work if we tried again. I miss your hugs… and your sweetness…”

Jason looked down at the waves tickling his feet. Those, the hugs and the sweet nothings, those were things that had stopped months before they had decided to break up. “Like we talked about…” Piper said, bitter nostalgia in her voice. “The feelings faded over time, I guess…” she finished.

Jason looked up at Will and Nico. They’d stopped for a moment. It looked like Will was trying to catch his breath. Maybe the party had been a bad idea, Jason thought.. Then, he turned to Piper, the guilt of not telling her the entire truth about why he’d wanted to break up suddenly becoming more than he can bear.

“Pipes…” said Jason. Piper looked at the son of Jupiter, eyebrow arched. “Pipes, we’re friends right?” he asked, almost pleadingly. The look on her face turned from one of puzzlement to one of concern. “I can tell you anything?”

The way that Jason practically begged with his voice made Piper suddenly fearful. She froze for a few seconds. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Yes…” She sighed then shook her head. “Actually.” Piper smiled. “Anything within reason. I don’t want to hear anything that can be classified as TMI.” she said jokingly.

Jason didn’t even crack a grin. “Pipes, I’m sorry, but the fact that the feelings just went away wasn’t the only reason I broke up with you.” Piper’s blood ran cold in her veins. “Pipes, I fell in love with Will.” Piper was absolutely gobsmacked. She didn’t know what to say. “And…” Jason said. Piper was incredulous at the implication that there was more to it. “I fell in love with Nico, too,” he admitted. It felt good to get it out there, to tell someone else about it, but at the same time it filled Jason with cloying dread.

Jason had expected Piper to throw a fit of rage at him for lying to her, for hiding these feelings from her, but instead what he saw was a contemplative look on her face. Then, he felt her hand grab his, squeezing his hand to comfort him.

“It hurts, Jason…” she admitted, through tear-filled eyes. “It hurts that you fell out of love with me and fell in love with someone else,” she said, admitting to that much. “But I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. I’m not angry. I’m beyond that now. We’re beyond that…”

Jason nodded, slowly. “Pipes, I’m sorry…” he said, true, sincere remorse plain on his voice. “I’m sorry I fell in love with two other people… But I never fell out of love with you. It just… I just… I don’t know how to explain it… I just… It was like my love for you got smaller while my love for them got bigger…” Jason sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “Pipes, I must sound like the biggest, stupidest fucking jerk on the planet right now, but I just… I don’t understand these feelings and they _hurt_.”

Piper’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “It’s okay, Jason,” she said, placing her other hand on top of his. “It’s okay. Do you think that the greatest heroes really understood love?” she asked. Jason shook his head. “Was it really wrong for Odysseus to fall in love with so many others on his journeys? Was it really his fault? I don’t think it was,” she said. This was something she’d thought about on many a night. Was falling in love with many people wrong? She didn’t think so. “I don’t think he could help it.” She said, finally, looking at Jason with a pointed gaze.

Then Piper jabbed her finger at his chest, right where Jason’s heart was beating, fluttering, thundering. “I don’t think you could have helped it either,” she said. “I understand why it didn’t work out now,” she said, something of an awed wonder in her voice.

“You have a lot of love to give out, Jason,” said Piper, smiling gently at Jason. “And as much as _I_ would love to try again, I’m just not the kind of person that can _share_ someone they love with someone else.” Piper glanced at Will and Nico. “It must be so difficult…”

Jason nodded, still teary-eyed. “Seeing them together like that,” said Piper, her own heart aching for Jason’s plight. “Don’t worry, Jason,” she said, squeezing his hand again. It gave him a boost of confidence in himself, but still, he couldn’t help but feel sad for himself seeing Nico and Will together. “You just have to find someone that will love you as you are, and won’t have a problem sharing you if they ever need to,” said Piper.

The daughter of Aphrodite squeaked when all of a sudden, she felt strong, warm arms around her. Piper was stunned. Then she started laughing, before she returned the embrace. “Gods. Thank you so much for understanding, Piper…” said Jason. Much to Piper’s surprise, she felt teardrops splashing against her shoulder. “Man,” said Jason, drawing away, and wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ve missed doing that. I should hug you more…”

Piper laughed. For the first time in a while, it was a laugh that was as carefree and light and lilting and musical as when she’d been happy with Jason. Then she nudged the son of Jupiter in the side and said, “They’re here,” with a sympathetic smile.

Will and Nico came to a stop a few feet away from the edge of the wharf. Jason clambered back up, and held up a finger in the universal ‘give me one second’ gesture. Jason reached over the side of the boat and retrieved two dry washcloths. He used one to wipe off his feet and handed Piper the other.

As Jason was walking towards her, Piper turned to Nico and Will. “So,” she said, winking, even though inside she knew that Jason would be hurt by the probable answer of the question she was about to ask. Will and Nico looked at each other and visibly braced themselves for the inevitable query. “Did you finally tell each other how you felt?” asked Piper, at first enthusiastically, but then, her voice trailed off as Jason bent over by her side to hand her the washcloth, a look of profound pain in his eyes.

Piper hastily took the washcloth and wiped her feet before getting up on the wharf. Will and Nico were too busy communicating silently to notice the encouraging squeeze that Piper gave Jason. Both Will and Nico had turned a couple of shades of red.

“W-well…” said Will, stuttering. He looked at Jason, as though uncertain whether he should say this in front of the son of Jupiter. It was only then that he noticed that Jason looked absolutely crestfallen. “Y-yeah, but—” Will’s stammering was cut off by Piper, who walked up to him and hugged him.

“W-we’ve decided to t-take it slow,” finished Will, eyes still locked onto Jason’s, that were already swimming in pain. Nico was nodding in agreement from behind Will. The moment Piper had started walking towards Will, Nico had hidden himself from the potential hugging that he had known was probably coming.

Piper pulled away, her hands still holding Will’s upper arms. Piper squeezed Will’s biceps. “I’m happy for you guys!” she said, genuinely excited, but somewhat insincerely, knowing that Jason was hurting because of Will and Nico’s newly-established relationship.

Piper then walked over to Nico. She frowned when instead of warmly accepting her, Nico took a couple of steps backwards. “No touching,” said Nico, repeating what he’d said after the whole group-hug ordeal the first time he’d woken up in the infirmary. “That group-hug thing was because I had just woken up from being knocked out…” said Nico with a smirk in Will’s direction.

Will paled, and there was a momentary panicked look on his face. Piper raised an eyebrow at Nico. Nico jerked his head at Will. “He punched me in the face and knocked me out when I scared him by re-appearing in the infirmary.”

Jason’s mouth twitched in the slightest smile. Will laughed nervously and pulled at his collar again, though it was more to try and alleviate the heat that he was feeling. Will had started sweating. The healer hoped that the slight spray of water from waves breaking against the wharf would disguise the beads of sweat on his brow.

“Well!” said Piper, looking sternly at Will, who looked apologetically at her, then at Nico. Much to Will’s surprise, Piper then said, “You deserved it!” Piper then planted her fists on her hips and frowned at Nico. “You vanished for three years!” she said. “You didn’t even visit, once! You could have at least come once and told someone that you didn’t plan on coming back for a little while. We thought you were gone forever!”

Jason looked, honestly, scandalized at Piper. “Oh gods,” she said, eyes widening in horror as she realized what she’d just said. “Oh gods, I’m sorry, Nico,” she said, in apology. Nico waved his hand dismissively. It didn’t really offend him. If anything, he actually _did_ deserve a punch in the face for being stubborn and stupid. “No one deserves to get punched in the face for coming back after being very, very sorely missed,” she said.

Nico laughed. “It’s alright, Piper,” he said, walking back to Will’s side. Will looked nervously at Nico and quickly removed the finger he’d hooked into the collar of his shirt. “It’s in the past now,” said Nico.

Jason, after he’d gotten over his shock over Piper’s mini-lecture on Nico, had to wrestle with himself. He had a few choice words for Nico, too. Both because he had sorely missed Nico, but also because Nico’s disappearance was why Will did all those horrible things to himself. Jason wisely kept his mouth shut, though. He couldn’t blame either of the boys for what they did. They just made bad decisions and reacted in a much worse manner.

“But…” Nico said. “I’m sorry for not coming back. That was my mistake… I wish I could take it back and save you all the misery I must have caused you…”

Jason looked into Nico’s eyes and felt like he was falling into a pit. It wasn’t a good feeling, nor was it a bad one. It was just unsettling. Needless to say, he sensed no dishonesty there. Nico was genuinely repentant about leaving.

Inwardly, the son of Jupiter sighed. His heart had jumped when Nico had apologized so sincerely. Jason wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Nico and Will and offer himself to them, but he knew that they were far too absorbed in each other to have any love to spare for a third wheel like him.

Dejected on the inside, but keeping up a happy exterior, Jason smiled at Will and Nico. “Where’s everyone?” asked Nico. He’d been looking around on their way down to the wharf. Wasn’t there supposed to be a party?

Jason laughed, though he was unable to keep the touch of bitterness that slipped into that laughter. “I suppose Will hasn’t told you, then?” said Jason. The son of Jupiter pointed off into the distance where, in the middle of the Sound, the Theopolis rode the waves like a massive marble-gold-and-seastone buoy.

Nico’s jaw dropped at the majestic sight. It was awe-inspiring. The Theopolis was without a doubt beautiful, especially from this far away. It almost seemed like a magical city. Something like Oz. Nico almost didn’t want to visit the place just in case it wasn’t as pretty up-close, though he doubted that the city would be flawed in any way.

“Chiron decided that we’re holding the party at the Theopolis since he thought you might want to see your father again,” said Jason, a bit too tersely. Nico didn’t understand why Jason was acting so… distant. The way Will looked worriedly at Jason though, told Nico that the healer knew something that he didn’t.

“Theopolis…” said Nico. “City of the Gods?” he asked. Jason nodded. Nico supposed that the place had been built to parallel Camp Jupiter’s New Rome, but to call it Theopolis was an act of one-upmanship that Nico was certain the Romans wouldn’t just let slide. The Romans had already, without a doubt, already begun planning for an even bigger project. They were, after all, the superior architects. “W-when did that get there?” Nico managed to stammer out.

Nico couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that the city had been built in the past year and a half. In all honesty, he hoped that it had not been in the process of being built before he visited the camp a year and a half ago, primarily because he didn’t want to feel _that_ oblivious.

“Yeah,” said Jason, the smile on his face tight and evidently unnatural. “The gods realized that without Olympus, they needed to have a seat of power in the mortal realm. Jason bent down to pull on his socks and shoes. “We were more than happy to make space for them in the city.”

“Really, Annabeth and Athena had the bright idea to build the Theopolis so that the Greeks wouldn’t have to move to the opposite side of the country to New Rome if they wanted to,” said Piper. She shook her head. “But then, the Romans were having the same problems, so Janus, happy to help for once, created a portal between the two cities.”

It was also Piper that answered Nico’s second question. “It’s been in progress for two years.” Nico visibly paled. How had he not noticed a massive construction project in the middle of the sound when he’d visited?

Piper didn’t notice Nico’s reaction. Neither did Will. Will was too busy trying to avoid Jason’s gaze, and trying his best to vent the heat that was starting to build up under his shirt. “Annabeth, Reyna and I actually went on a quest to get a crystal that would keep the bridge anchored to the city.”

Piper laughed. “The gods don’t want to have to concentrate to keep it there all the time,” she explained. “Which it needed to be, if it was going to be an open city to everyone,” she continued.

“Poseidon was actually the most vocal about it,” she said, giggling at the shocked expression on Nico’s face. Jason seemed to have lightened up. He nodded in agreement with Nico’s incredulity. “Well, for all we know, he probably decided to take things seriously since the city’s sacred to him.”

Nico couldn’t help but laugh. To think that Poseidon was being so particular about keeping the city open for all was rather strange. The sea-god had been so reluctant to abandon his undersea kingdom when Olympus was under siege by Typhon, that thinking of him as helpful was difficult.

A fresh wave of guilt washed over Nico. He’d missed so much. Nico had to wonder if he deserved to be there to be present for everything else that the people he cared about would go through. Nico looked at Will. “How much has changed since I… disappeared?” he asked.

Will froze for a moment, slightly shocked that he was being talked to. For once he wanted to shrink away Nico’s attention. He didn’t want the son of Hades to worry about him, especially since they were just on their way to partake in a celebration of Nico’s return.

“A lot,” said Jason, answering for Will. The healer shot Jason a relieved look of gratitude, but Jason looked away, eyes evading Will’s. “The least of which is this,” said the son of Jupiter, a note of forced enthusiasm creeping into his voice as he stretched his arms towards the purple speedboat.

“The Legion has a new navy!” he said. Jason’s face was grinning, but his eyes weren’t. Nico could see that, but he chose to not ask about it. He would have to have a talk with Jason later, too. “For the exclusive use of the _pontifex maximus_ ,” said Jason, somewhat bitterly.

Nico was looking around for a fleet of ships before he realized that the purple speedboat emblazoned with SPQR on the side was it. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that the Romans weren’t very big on the whole seafaring thing. It was a wonder that Jason managed to convince the Legion treasury to cough up some money for it.

Nico could see that the way Jason looked at the speedboat was with a bittersweet glint in his eyes. Nevertheless, the son of Jupiter still ran his fingers almost lovingly along the side when he walked up to the boat.

The thing meant a lot to Jason. He and Piper had spent many an evening on it, watching the sunset from the mouth of the sound. There was also the fact that Jason had had fantasies about doing _something_ with Will on the boat. He only regretted he wouldn’t be able to do anything of the sort.

Nico smiled. He’d not been sure that Jason had become _pontifex_ , but he was happy that the senate had elected the son of Jupiter to that position. Nico didn’t think that there was anyone else that would have fit the station.

“Well” said Jason, almost sheepishly. “Exclusive use because I’m the only Roman brave enough to regularly use a speedboat,” he continued, drawing a laugh from Piper. It was true. Even Reyna was somewhat suspicious of the damn thing. Jason had to captain the speedboat very carefully whenever the praetor was on-board. The last thing that Jason wanted was to get flung overboard because of ‘driving recklessly.’

“Even Reyna?” asked Nico. Somehow, even if he knew it was the case, the thought of Reyna being uneasy on a boat was rather bizarre.

“Even Reyna,” said Piper, answering for Jason. She couldn’t stop giggling. The profound sadness in Jason’s eyes melted away for a moment, and he looked at Piper, in his silence begging her to stop whatever she was about to say. “Oh gods, Reyna is the _best,_ ” said Piper, unable to stop laughing. “Jason wanted to show off once, and Reyna got so mad she threw him off the boat.”

Jason turned completely red. He knew that Reyna was more than capable of manhandling even the most accomplished legionnaires but that did not make it any less embarrassing. The praetor had, quite literally, seized him from where he sat piloting the boat, screamed at Frank to drive it like a good Roman should, and tossed him over the side.

Nico couldn’t help but start laughing too. Will didn’t want to be left out, but his laughter was nervous and awkward. He was looking directly in Jason’s eyes. There was still a lot of pain dwelling behind their electric blue. “How did you get it?” asked Nico.

Jason was fixated on Will. He didn’t hear the first time. Nico frowned and saw the look that Will was sharing with Jason. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous and left out. Nico cleared his throat. Jason blinked and stared at Nico as though seeing him there for the first time. “Are you okay, Jason?” he asked. Will looked like he was about to pass out, but Nico did not notice. He was too busy looking at Jason. “I asked how you got it.”

“I-I…” Jason’s eyes darted quickly at Will. Nico frowned. Was there something between the two boys that he didn’t know about? Jason gulped audibly. Then, Jason’s face transformed. Gone was the distraction and the outward pain. “My bro Percy got me on Neptune’s good side,” said the son of Jupiter with a lopsided grin.

Nico looked at Will. For a moment, Will looked like he was going to be sick, but just as quickly, he looked fine. Cheerful, even. Will smiled at Nico, then made gagging sounds at Jason’s use of the _bro_ word.

Another wave of nausea washed over Will. If he hadn’t been concentrating on staying upright, he probably would have staggered right off the wharf. Will bit the inside of his cheek. It was all he could do to keep his cool. Quickly, he hid his hand behind his back, hoping against hope that the brief, incredibly painful flash of light that erupted from it would not be noticed.

Nico was already clambering onto the boat, being assisted by Jason and Piper. None of them noticed. No demigods noticed. There _was_ , however, someone that noticed. It was a particular god with a vested interest in this particular son of Apollo.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! >:]
> 
> Jason is very conflicted, and he and Piper have a much-needed talk. We're building up to a loooot of action. It's going to get hairy from here on up until Chapter 14. :3. We're going to see part of what happened with Nico during the three years away, so keep watching!
> 
> Talk to meeee! I'd love to hear your thoughts so far. The angst is going to start picking up now. >:] Who do you think the god that noticed Will was? It's definitely not Apollo, I'll tell you that much!
> 
> Anyway, if you have questions, feel free to drop them by [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask), my tumblr!


	7. Dangerous Waters

To say that Jason’s speedboat was top of the line was an understatement that frankly, thought Nico, was worthy of execution by public hanging. The son of Hades had to wonder how Percy had managed to pull _enough_ strings with Neptune to get the thing for Jason. After all, for being a major deity of the Roman pantheon, the poor god got very little respect and was bound to have quite a few choice words for the Romans. Nevertheless, there was one thing Nico knew for certain; the boat was fast and, undoubtedly, unmatched by any of Camp Half-Blood’s other speedboats.

While they’d been clambering onto the boat, Jason had said, in a humorous but somewhat terse voice that the vessel had been blessed by Kymopoleia after her shrine and line of action figures had been taken care of. Jason’s speedboat could brave the most savage seas.

Of course, most of them would be Kymopoleia’s doing to begin with, as Jason had pointed out, but apparently that was beyond the point.

Nico looked over to the side and frowned, worriedly, at the sight of his boyfriend. Will looked incredibly uneasy. The healer was swaying unsteadily from side to side.

Common sense dictates that anyone as unsteady as Will was probably ill. Will’s hands were in between his legs, clutching the edge of the seat that he was sitting in. He looked like he was about to get sick. In truth, he looked somewhat green.

However, the greenness of Will Solace’s face was not the most remarkable thing about his current condition. Anyone with a sharp eye would, under normal circumstances, would have been able to discern that Will was glowing dully. Will was feeling extremely warm. Hotter than a normal human being, or demigod, for that matter, had any right to feel. Will was unbearably hot. Not in a positive, life-affirming way.

Nico hesitated and made a sound of frustration. His hand twitched on his thigh as he contemplated placing a hand on Will’s shoulder to try steady the healer, and maybe, comfort him.

He didn’t. Nico couldn’t. Even thinking about touching someone he had just entered into a relationship with brought back memories of the past three years that he would rather he’d forgotten. With the rocking of the speedboat, though, he didn’t think it would help Will a whole lot anyway.

As fast as they were traveling towards the Theopolis, as Nico had learned from Piper, it would take quite a while for them to actually get there. The distance between the shore at Camp Half-Blood and the docks of the Theopolis was far longer than it seemed, mostly because the Theopolis was in a metaphysical realm all its own, like Olympus.

“Will?” Nico asked, voice barely audible over the roar of the engine, the spraying water, and the sound of the boat bobbing on the waves. “Are you alright?” he asked, scooting closer to Will, but still maintaining a distance that he found tolerable. “You don’t look too good…” he said.

Will pulled at his collar again, hoping that Nico would not notice the tendrils of steam that curled away from his flesh when the spray of water managed to make its way onto his chest. “No shit, sherlock…” he snapped at Nico. Well, he tried to snap. It came out as more of a groan. He was _not_ feeling very well at all. Will looked at Nico, and saw deep concern in the other man’s eyes. “I-I’m alright, Nico…” he managed with a forced grin, which he imagined was not very convincing.

Nico slid himself along the bench closer to Will, knowing that he should be comforting his new boyfriend, but then he moved away, uncomfortable with the proximity. Especially now that Will was swaying wildly like those limp balloon-men that auto-shops, for some reason, seemed to like using excessively, being near Will felt like a terrible idea. Nico didn’t want Will’s head to bang against his shoulder. He didn’t want Will to hurt himself accidentally. That was it. Or at least, that was how Nico justified it to himself.

“Are you sure?” asked Nico, looking at Piper for help. The daughter of Aphrodite smiled sympathetically at him, but shrugged. She thought Will was just having some motion sickness. There wasn’t really much that could be done about that, especially on a speedboat like Jason’s.

“Yeah, yeah…” said Will through gritted teeth. His stomach was churning from the powerful nausea that was coursing through him. “I’m just…” Will belched, then looked absolutely terrible afterwards. “I’m just a little bit sea-sick,” he said. He looked up at Nico and forced a grin again before unleashing another belch that made him even more miserable.

What Will had said was somewhat true. It wasn’t the whole truth, but Will _did_ get motion-sickness from time to time, rare as those occasions were. However, the fact that the speedboat was bobbing up and down on the waves so much on top of the nausea he was already feeling didn’t help one bit.

Will was mentally berating himself over his carelessness. If there was one thing that Hades had implored him not to do, it was not over-exerting his powers. In fact, Will couldn’t remember anything about Hades telling him not to resurrect the dead. He would have thought Hades would have a word or two about that with him, but Hades never explicitly forbade him from doing so. Will had to wonder if Hades didn’t tell him to stay away from the resurrection of the dead so that if Nico turned up dead all of a sudden, he could bring Nico back to life. Nevertheless. Will should’ve listened to Lord Hades. The warning had been clear, and he had just put Nico and everyone else in camp in danger because he didn’t think of slowly healing Nico over the course of a few days.

“You…” Nico sighed. He wasn’t used to doing this. He wasn’t very good at comforting people. Even when he’d been with Eirwyn and the other man had expressed his frustrations, Nico had only found himself awkwardly agreeing. “You don’t look very well…” he finally said. “I’ll understand if you want to go and rest instead of going to the party.”

Will frowned and looked at Nico as though he was a madman. Nico couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty, as though he’d done something wrong without thinking. What started out as a frown quickly became a grimace when another wave of nausea hit Will. This one was so powerful that he had to turn his head to the side. He didn’t want to be facing Nico, especially not feeling like this. Puking on your new boyfriend on the day that you two confessed your feelings for one another and officially became a couple was a _fantastic_ idea. Will’s voice in his own head was dripping with sarcasm at the thought.

“And what?” demanded Will, after a minute or so with struggling to keep his food down. “Miss the party that celebrates the end of three years of misery because you disappeared one night?” There was a hint of vitriol in Will’s voice that under normal circumstances, he would have prevented. In his current state of health, though, that was easier said than done. “No thanks, di Angelo,” he said through gritted teeth after managing to swallow some bile that had made its way up his throat.

While Nico understood that Will was talking with little restraint because of his condition, he couldn’t help but notice the distinct lack of mirth in Will’s words. Nico couldn’t help but feel both guilty for leaving without any explanation, and slightly angry because he felt as though Will was trying, purposefully, to guilt him.

Nico looked away and bit his tongue. He didn’t want to say anything hurtful, or anything he might later regret. It was while he was trying to calm himself that he realized something that he’d not realized before.

There was a familiar weight to the drakon-skin cloak. Hands trembling, Nico extended a few fingers into the area where the cowl was resting over the collar. There, hidden under folds of leather, was a familiar silver skull pin. Nico made a soft sound. He looked at Will. “You kept my pin?” he asked. “And you gave it back?”

Once more, Will frowned and looked at Nico as though the son of Hades had utterly lost his mind. “Of course I kept your pin!” snapped Will. He was getting crankier. The spray of water from the Sound was cooling him somewhat, but the help it offered Will was only marginal at best.

“You had been missing for a year and a half, and then, somehow, when I got back from a quest where, by the way, I very nearly died—” Will choked back a sob. “—I see a silver skull pinned to the shroud I was supposed to burn!”

Will’s words stung, but Nico forged through them. He had to hear this. He had always wanted to know how Will had taken it. “It was the only thing that reminded me of you…” said Will, his voice becoming small and vulnerable.

“It was…” Will drew a deep, shuddering, ragged breath. Then he straightened in his seat and gritted his teeth. His tone of voice changed, becoming more firm, and, in fact, more grim and accusatory. “It was the only thing that kept me hoping you would come back.” Will’s eyes flashed with years of pent-up frustrations. “So that I could correct what I had done wrong.”

There was something about the tone of voice that Will was using on him that Nico did not like one bit. “What are you trying to do, Solace?” he demanded, his own frustrations over the years rising to the surface. “It’s not like I had a choice!” he growled. Then, Nico fell silent. He realized that he had probably said far too much already. “Nevermind” he said, stiffly, turning away from Will and scooting down the bench, further from the son of Apollo.

“I just…” Nico breathed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t return, okay?” he said. “I wanted to. I missed everyone…” he said, the admission difficult to get out there. Will made a sound halfway between a grunt and a whine. “Yes, even you, Solace…” he said, begrudgingly, as he rolled his eyes.

Nico looked up and stared at Piper, who, despite the conflicted look on her face was quite obviously trying her best not to giggle at the half-fight that Nico and Will were having. Will groaned and folded over his stomach. The nausea was almost crippling.

“Why couldn’t you?” asked the healer as he desperately tried to hold on to what little he’d managed to eat that day. Since the day had started on a rather melancholy note, and was now riding on a rather frantic one, Will had had very little time to eat. The rest of it, he’d tossed into the campfire, hoping that maybe an extra large offering to his dad would shed some answers on the things that they were struggling with, or at least get Nico back. Will supposed that it had kind of worked, but he wasn’t entirely sure that Apollo had anything to do with it.

“You wouldn’t understand…” said Nico, grimly. He tore his eyes away from Will’s doubled-over form on the bench. Nico did not want to be hiding things from Will. There was something he’d learned from living in Dublin, even though it had been something of an aside to what he’d actually been there for.

Nico di Angelo had many good memories from being with Wyn, and what he’d learned was that trust and communication were the foundations of a strong relationship. It was because the memories with Wyn were too good that he wanted to forget them.

Nico was already guilty enough of many things. He didn’t want to be guilty of another. Nico really wanted things to work out between himself and Will, but he had to keep things to himself. Otherwise, he was sure, even Will, hardheaded as he was, would likely scream at him and run for the hills. “I told you” said Nico softly, gently. “I will tell you when the right time comes.”

“When is the right time?” asked Will, unable to stop the note of bitterness that crept into his voice. Will groaned as his stomach twisted.

Okay, sure, Will Solace was happy that Nico di Angelo had finally returned after three years of not knowing Nico would, and blaming himself for driving Nico away to begin with anyway. Nevertheless, the fact that Nico didn’t want to share anything with him about the three years he’d been away, as though they were back to square one on the whole trust thing, hurt almost as bad as living with the guilt of being the one to blame for why Nico had disappeared to begin with. It also draped a damp blanket on the elation he was otherwise feeling.

Nico scowled at Will, though the son of Apollo was too busy in his misery, trying his damnedest not to throw up, to notice. “I don’t know,” snapped Nico, frowning at himself for being unable to contain his temper. “Soon,” he said, a bit more stiffly than he intended.

“Right” said Will, aggression blatant in his voice. “Soon. Like. In three decades soon.” Will groaned again. It was getting worse. He didn’t understand why Nico was being this unreasonable! He just wanted to know why he wouldn’t understand. If Nico had had a relationship with someone else over those three years, Will was alright with just letting that go.

Will was happy enough that Nico was back and was with him again. To top it all off, Nico had actually confessed that he liked Will back. To think that Nico’s feelings for him had not faded in three years… It was fantastic! It was beyond Will’s wildest dreams. He didn’t understand how there could be secrets too difficult to tell him. “Will!” shouted Nico, getting angry at Will. “I told you! Soon! Just… Trust me!” he said, his voice growing more tender towards the end as he considered the distress Will was in.

“Nico!” retorted Will, mockingly copying Nico’s voice and inflection. If his stomach wasn’t being such a bitch, Will would have straightened from where he was folded over himself and stared Nico in the eyes. “Why don’t _you_ trust _me?_ ” he demanded, acid dripping from his words.

“Stop it, you two!” said Piper, unable to stay out of the fight any longer. She knew that couples had to work out their differences alone. Gods knew that had been the case with her and Jason. But at the same time, things were rapidly deteriorating. She couldn’t just sit there and watch.

“One day,” said Piper sternly, looking pointedly at Nico, who’d opened his mouth to say something angrily. “One day, you’ve been together—” Nico tried to say something again, but a sharp glare from Piper told him not to push his luck. “—and you’re fighting like a senile old couple!” she snapped.

“Will!” she said, rather irritably. “Leave Nico alone!” Will groaned in response. “He’s been away somewhere for the last three years doing something not even the gods know about!” she said. “Show him a little trust and be patient. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

Nico looked gratefully at Piper, but she was not done. She was far from finishing her little diatribe. “And you!” she said, wagging a finger at Nico. The son of Hades instinctively tried to back away, but being on a speedboat, he didn’t really have much space to work with.

“Don’t get angry at Will,” said Piper, unable to help adding a little bit of her own bitterness at Nico’s sudden disappearance. “He lost someone important to him for three years and can’t understand why that particular someone can’t even trust him with a little bit of what he did during those three years!” Piper caught herself and stopped before she said something she would regret.

Nico and Will looked at each other, mouths working wordlessly for a little while as they resignedly accepted what Piper had said. They couldn’t challenge her wisdom. Everything she’d pointed out was true. Quickly, they looked away from each other.

Thankfully, Jason came around from the front of the boat as the engine’s racket died down. He smiled at Piper, then at Nico and at Will. This smile was more sincere than the ones back on the other side of the Sound.

Jason enjoyed driving the speedboat, both because it was a powerful machine, but also because its roar made him unable to think. It isolated him from himself, and it was a blessing. That alone was the reason he was feeling in a much better mood. Jason turned to Nico, for once noticing that the son of Hades looked rather forlorn.

“I hope you all behaved well…” he said, rather grimly. “I’ll take that as a no.” Nico sighed. “Well, whatever you did,” Jason said in full seriousness. “Better put on a smile. Welcome to the City of the Gods!”

\----------

No sooner than Piper had helped Will disembark from Jason’s SPQR-emblazoned purple speedboat did they hear a loud splash and a chorus of laughter from what seemed to be a rather large group of Ares and Hermes kids. A mop of familiar brunet hair and flailing arms — Connor Stoll — bobbed up and down on the waves.

“Hey!” shouted the distraught, and quite wet son of Hermes. “That’s not nice!” he called out, swimming over to the wharf where Travis was waiting to pull his younger brother up from the Sound. “I have my best clothes on!” he said, gesturing to his rather lacklustre jeans, camp half-blood shirt, and assorted accoutrements. There was a round of jeering from the crowd. Connor held up his arms and said “Okay, okay, fine, they’re not my best! Still! You don’t push a man into the water!” he protested.

“ _Your_ clothes?” someone called out from the group of campers. There was a round of raucous laughter. Connor scowled at his half-siblings, and the Ares campers. “You probably stole them!” shouted someone else, prompting another round of taunts and laughter. There was a murmur of agreement from the Hermes kids.

“Well, I never!” protested Connor in mock offense. The son of Hermes staggered to his feet and tried his best to dry himself. It wasn’t working very well. At the end of a minute, he was still dripping wet. “Okay, yeah, maybe I did. But that’s not the point!” he said.“You still pushed me into the water and ruined my clothes!” said Connor. Nico was watching with amusement. Jason’s grim visage had cracked a bit. The corners of his lips were turned up in a small ghost of a smile. It was an improvement, though. This one looked rather genuine. Nico couldn’t help but wonder how the Stoll brothers’ antics always managed to simultaneously irritate and make the campers crack up.

Over to the side, away from Nico’s and Jason’s attention, Piper was struggling to keep Will on his feet. The son of Apollo was burning up. Piper was highly concerned. Will was radiating the kind of heat that one would expect from the air coming out of an oven. “Please…” Will begged. The pleading in Will’s eyes made Piper, for the moment at least, in what was retrospectively a bad idea, stay silent about what was going on. “Don’t want to ruin it… Nico…” croaked Will.

For the son of Apollo, even talking was making the nausea nigh-unbearable. “But, Will…” said Piper, tossing one of Will’s arms over her shoulder and bracing his chest with her other arm. “Will, you’re going to keel over if you don’t get any help…” she said.

“No…” said Will. He tried to concentrate. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to call his healing light to the surface. All he got was pain that rippled through his body, making him convulse ever so slightly. “Ugh. Can’t heal…” he said through gritted teeth. Moments later, he was dry heaving. At least his earlier meals seemed safe in his stomach.

The sound reached Nico. The son of Hades whirled around from where he was standing beside Jason. His eyes instantly trained on Will, still looking miserable beside Piper. Piper looked at him and shook her head. Instantly, Nico knew something was wrong.

Nico jogged over to Piper and Will. Weakly, the son of Apollo tried to wave Nico away. “Don’t…” he groaned, another bout of violent retching making his entire body shake. “I’ll be…” Will breathed deep, the sound ragged. “I’ll be okay…” he said.

Nico frowned, but before he could say anything, there was a rather loud slap against the marble of the wharf where the other campers were gathered. Connor Stoll had slipped and fallen on his ass. The marble of the pier was hard. That must have hurt, but Travis helped Connor back on his feet.

“Not your clothes!” jeered someone from the Hermes side of the crowd. “Take them off! Take them off!” chanted a girl from the Ares side of the group. Her words had an instant silencing effect on the crowd. The boisterous laughter and ribbing stopped.

The only sound that could be heard was the breaking of waves against the wharf, and the sound of the birds circling high overhead. “Take…” Nico couldn’t see the demigod who was still chanting from where he stood. “Them… Off…” she said. Every word grew softer and softer as the rest of the demigods turned their attention to her.

Nico mused that the poor girl probably was ready to jump into the Sound herself by now. However, the stunned silence seemed to get swept away by the powerful breeze that blew then. When the wind died down, the cheer was taken up by the rest of the crowd.

The girl heaved a sigh of relief that was surprisingly audible from where Nico was standing. He turned his attention back to Will, who’d stopped trembling. He looked to be steadier on his feet now, though he still seemed ready to topple over at the slightest provocation.

Will looked gratefully at Piper just as the more adventurous members of the Hermes and Ares cabins started to advance menacingly on the dripping-wet Stoll brother. Travis had the good sense to back away from his brother as a few of their half-siblings and most of the Ares demigods approached.

Nico looked at Will. “I’m…” Will’s voice caught in his throat for a moment. He coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m okay…” he managed, looking at Nico pointedly. He _really_ didn’t want to ruin the party meant for Nico by having the son of Hades worry about him.

The campers caught up to Connor rather quickly, as he was trying his best not to slip again, and his ass still hurt. They, especially the children of Hermes, had somehow managed to tear off Connor’s clothes. The brunet was left with nothing but his underwear.

Much to the surprise of no one, given that these were children of the god of thieves, the youngest and newest addition to their ranks somehow managed to steal the tight green briefs right from under Connor’s hands. Even Connor was surprised. Instead of ducking and hiding away his body, which, by no means, was anything to be ashamed of, as Jason rather shamefully noted to himself, Connor Stoll flaunted it.

The years had seen to making Connor Stoll the stereotypical Greek God. The tall, skinny thief three years ago had been replaced by a mouth-wateringly handsome young man.

Jason’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the rather sizable manhood that dangled between Connor’s legs. Travis, understandably, looked away in disgust, throwing his hands in front of his face after making the ancient sign of warding away evil. Nico and Will both reddened right to the tips of their ears at the sight. Piper gasped. Jason, on the other hand, stood there and blushed.

Connor huffed haughtily and pressed his hips to his waist before bending down, reaching for his jeans, and probably flashing anyone who was standing behind him, fortunately no one, with an unrestricted view of his rosebud.

Connor glanced at his underwear that was floating on the water. He decided it was not worth the effort to go jump into the water again just to retrieve the damn things. Instead he walked off stiffly, trying to pull on his pants as Travis looked on in stunned silence at Connor’s confidence.

In the middle of all the laughter and jeering from most of the boys of Hermes and Ares, and the blushes, stunned silence, and thinly-veiled _want_ in the eyes of some of the boys and a number of the girls, no one was fast enough to catch Connor as he slipped a second time.

The laughter went on for a moment or two into Connor’s slip, before it was replaced by panicked shouts, and Travis trying to bolt to his brother’s side. It was too late. Connor’s feet kicked out from other him and his head hit the marble wharf with a sickening smack.

A heartbeat later, Connor’s body followed suit, starting to slip into the water from the precarious position it had landed in. Everyone else was far too stunned. Jason wasn’t. He was the first to leap into action when he saw the blood blossom on the marble pier.

Travis had frozen two steps away from his brother, petrified by the sight of Connor bleeding so much. Jason ran across the wharf, practically jumping over campers as he yelled for help. Whatever laughter still hadn’t ceased because people hadn’t yet noticed what had happened was promptly stopped.

Nico felt Piper being shoved into him as Will removed his arm from over her shoulders and took off after Jason. Nico was too stunned to care about the close proximity. A moment later, he and Piper shared a look before dashing over to Connor as well.

Jason pulled Connor back onto the docks as Travis numbly walked over to his brother’s limp body. Then all hell broke loose as Travis wailed and tried to run to Connor, only to get knocked over and into the water by Will for getting in the healer’s way.

Will surveyed the damage gingerly. The nausea had been pushed to the back of his mind, but he was acutely aware of it. Will didn’t know if there was anything he could do for Connor, given his extremely weakened state, and the fact that any use of his powers now could start an uncontrollable chain of events that would end with _everyone_ in the vicinity dead.

Will placed the palm of his shaking right hand against Connor’s forehead. The healer was shaking from the strain of keeping his cool, from trying not to keel over from exhaustion, not from panic. The injury was bad, to say the least. Connor had had the excessive misfortune of falling in just the exact right way as to cause the most damage to his head.

Even if Will could close the wounds and prevent any further blood loss, he wasn’t sure how the injury would affect Connor’s motor abilities, or, in fact, his mental capacity and other faculties.

The amount of blood was almost sickening to look at. A puddle had already formed around Connor’s head, almost looking like it had formed a sanguine halo around the son of Hermes’ splayed hair. The blood was already dripping off the edge of the pier, the crimson spreading through the waves rapidly. Of course it was. Demigod blood. Fortunately it had been an accident and not some act of vengeance.

“Will…” said Jason urgently, as he saw the struggle in Will’s eyes, and the conflict that was dwelling behind the soft blue. “Will” repeated Jason, this time more firm. There was no time for his hurting. There was no time for his uncertainty. There was no time for his fear of Will. There was no time for his terror at maybe being abandoned. Right now, for Jason, saving Connor’s life was the most important thing, and if it meant that he asked something he knew that Will wouldn’t like, he would do it without question. “Will, I know you want to keep it a secret, but if you don’t do anything _now_ he’s going to die.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Jason?” said Will through gritted teeth, trying his best to bend his light to his will. It just wasn’t happening. He was too weak. His concentration was too shattered.

Travis clambered up from the water, his hand darting out to grab Will’s ankle. “If you can do something to save him, do it!” demanded the son of Hermes. “I don’t care if you leave my brother a cripple, or a vegetable,” said Travis, with tears in his eyes. “Just save him…” The anger had all but evaporated. It had been replaced by desperation. “Please!”

“I…” Will’s voice faltered. Nico knelt by the healer’s side. “Is he still?” managed Will, looking pointedly at Nico. He didn’t want to speak the word. Nico nodded. Will breathed in relief. His concentration was shot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. In a massive expenditure of effort, Will summoned his light.

The light was weak, and nothing like the radiant, brazen gold that it normally was. The light was flickering on and off. The scent of pineapples filled the air, but the smell was almost bitter and burnt. The light in Will’s body welled in his hands.

Jason shied away. There was an intense amount of heat radiating from Will. The water from the waves that made contact with his skin burst into curling strands of steam. That was new. Will sighed and closed his eyes, about to press his hands down on Connor’s limp body, but before he could, nearby, the seas bubbled and erupted in a geyser nearly forty feet tall, revealing Poseidon.

The Lord of the Sea was resplendent in his seastone armour, sparkling in the light of the setting sun. Poseidon pointed Earthshaker at Will. “You!” he said, voice thundering across the wharf. “None of that,” he said.

Travis’ eyes went wide with panic. “Hades wants to see you,” said Poseidon, looking pointedly at Will. Nico could see Will visibly gulp. His first thought was to not blame Will because Hades was, understandably, an intimidating god. However, he then remembered that Hades had been helping Will.

Nico frowned. There was evidently something that Will wasn’t telling him, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit miffed. So much for that whole trust spiel of Will’s. Then Poseidon turned to Nico and said, “And of course, he wants to see his darling son, too,” rather awkwardly.

Poseidon was evidently trying his best to suppress a chuckle, but that was not working very well. Poseidon cocked his head towards Will. “He’s more important right now, though, because if Hades doesn’t do something about _him,_ ” Poseidon pointed his trident at Will. “He’s going to burn up and take the whole damn city with him.”

Nico blinked. What did Poseidon mean by that? He didn’t have any time to ponder the question because Will then promptly dissolved into seawater. Nico followed soon after. The last thing the son of Hades heard was Travis Stoll’s scream of outrage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeere we go! The ride's starting to get _really_ bumpy!
> 
> What do you think will happen to Connor Stoll? And will Travis ever forgive Will if anything happens to his brother? Send in your thoughts! I'd love to hear them. Also, what do you think of Will being hypocritical? Does he have any right to demand from Nico what happened in the three years that they were apart?
> 
> I'd love to read what you think, and I hope you tune in because there's going to be another chapter later on today. <3.
> 
> Merry Christmas to all of you, my dear readers! And please, if you'd like, drop me Christmas greetings at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask), and tell me something about yourself so I can know how many of you there are and I can start to get to now you folks!


	8. Blinding Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Dub-con content coming up. The first scene, all the italicized paragraphs are dub-con. Don't like it, don't read it, but that being said, you'll be missing out on quite a _lot_

_Eirwyn Argall bucked his hips in time with the slurping sounds of Nico di Angelo’s mouth working his cock up and down, swallowing it eagerly, greedily, right down to the hilt, making sounds of pleasure and satisfaction that sent tingles down Wyn’s spine and through his cock._

_Wyn’s fingers were threaded through Nico’s shaggy locks. He was trying his best not to dig his fingers and nails into Nico’s scalp. Over the last month, Wyn had been able to teach Nico the fine art of cocksucking, particularly the form that the Welshman enjoyed the most. It was great having a warm mouth waiting for him every day after that stupid retail job he had to work at._

_Wyn’s right hand left Nico’s hair, his fingers traveling down the side of Nico’s face lovingly. The touch was light, and, as he’d trained Nico, pleasurable. The son of Hades’ entrance twitched with want, and he moaned around the cock sliding in and out of his mouth. Wyn groaned, the vibrations sending miniature shockwaves of pleasure through his body. “That’s it…” he panted._

_Nico shoved the entire length of Wyn’s member into his gullet, making his boyfriend make a guttural sound from the exquisite pleasure that the warm wetness of Nico’s mouth afforded him. His nose buried in the flesh of Wyn’s pubic mound, he breathed in the manly musk of his boyfriend. Oh how he loved that smell. If only he knew that he’d been conditioned to do so._

_Wyn clutched Nico’s chin and turned his face upward. Wyn couldn’t help but smile, seeing Nico’s blank, adoring gaze. Nico’s eyes were glazed over, as though he was on some kind of drug. Truth be told, he was on something that was as good as a drug. Wyn’s powers were inflaming Nico’s lust._

_Little by little, with the passing of the days, Wyn was stripping away the parts of Nico that made him unable to open up and love. Little by little, Wyn was molding Nico into the perfect lover for him. Little by little, Wyn was making Nico absolutely, irrevocably, his._

_“Enough,” said Wyn, hands gripping the sides of Nico’s head to stop him from doing anything more to Wyn’s cock. Nevertheless, enthusiastic as he was to please his lover, and soon-to-be owner, Nico’s tongue darted out to try and lick at the swollen head of Wyn’s manhood._

_“None of that now,” said Wyn gently, with a chuckle. “You’re so enthusiastic for my bone, aren’t you?” asked the Welshman. Nico nodded, rather vigorously. Nico renewed his efforts to try and get the cock in his mouth, but Wyn persevered and held him back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy, how about I reward you?”_

_Nico panted. “Please, Wyn…” The glazed look in Nico’s eyes was unbearably hot as Nico looked up at Wyn. The son of Hades was so adorable on his knees, prostrate before Wyn like this. “Please… I want it…” moaned Nico, biting his lower lip._

_“Oh gods…” said Wyn, shuddering. His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he thrust his hips forward. Wyn’s cock managed to find itself pulsing and throbbing against the side of Nico’s nose. “It’s…” moaned Wyn. “Cumming!” he said. Nico opened his mouth as the member resting across his face began spewing warm, salty, milky-white cum all over his face._

_Before Nico could bring his hands up to his face to shovel all the seed into his mouth, Wyn hooked his finger into the collar that Nico was wearing. It was a thin leather band that went around Nico’s neck, but it had ‘Eirwyn’ emblazoned on the side in silver letters. In front, attached to a silver d-ring that clinked when Wyn pulled Nico to his feet, was a silver skull pin._

_“I love you…” said Wyn, panting. Nico, trance-like and possessed by the immense tides of lust that were coursing through his body, returned those three words to Wyn. The Welshman pressed his lips against Nico’s, tasting himself on Nico’s lips and tongue. It was hot. His cock leapt back to full hardness._

_Wyn growled. “You are mine.” Nico’s cock responded by swelling against the chastity cage that Wyn had placed on it. That helped keep Nico’s mind pliable and consumed by desire. He didn’t allow Nico the relief of a true orgasm. The only time the son of Hades came under Wyn’s command was when he was being fucked, and even then, the cage never came off._

_“Yours…” panted Nico, fingers fondling his swollen nuts and trying to find purchase between the bars of the metal chastity cage fixed around his manhood. His cock was pressed against the stainless steel. As much as Nico tried, he could only tease himself further. The cage prevented him from giving himself too much pleasure._

_“Yours…” groaned Nico again as Wyn pushed him over the bed, bending him over the side. Nico didn’t even struggle when Wyn grabbed both his arms and handcuffed his hands behind his back. Like this, Nico was helpless when Wyn kicked his legs apart._

_Wyn grinned, seeing the throbbing rosebud of Nico’s no-longer-virginal entrance. He would take it again. He would fuck Nico into the bed. He would fuck the dredges of Nico’s old life out of him. Wyn smeared his fingers with the mess of cum on Nico’s face and pressed his index finger against Nico’s opening._

_Opening it was. Nico groaned and the pucker, throbbing and warm, almost_ sucked _in Wyn’s finger. Nico’s back arched as soon as the finger had breached him. He ground his hips into the bed, trying to get some friction on his cock. It wasn’t enough._

_Wyn found Nico’s prostate and he screamed. Nico screamed in absolute rapturous pleasure. Nico screamed until his throat was raw. Nico screamed, his entire body locking from the pleasure of having his prostate assaulted by Wyn’s finger. He screamed Wyn’s name until it was the only thing in his mind._

_\----------_

Nico noted, as his entire essence was composed of rushing currents of water going gods know where, that compared to being turned to water by Poseidon, being turned into the wind by Favonious had been unsettling, as opposed to uncomfortable on an almost-transcendent level.

Soon enough, Nico and Will found their way to the throne room. While on Olympus, the thrones had been arrayed in a pattern similar to the cabins of Camp Half-Blood, here, they were all arranged in a circle, save for a central aisle. There was a hole in the middle of the floor that opened down to the waters of the Sound below.

Saltwater sloshed onto the marble, laced with glittering gold, and rippling seastone. Moments later, Nico and Will were reconstituted, coughing up water from their lungs on the floor. “Not your most elegant work, Poseidon,” said Athena, noting that the two demigods had nearly drowned.

“Give me a break, Athena” protested Poseidon as he clambered out of the pool himself, his form first outlined in rippling saltwater before eventually fading into the bronzed flesh of his preferred humanoid form. For a moment, Poseidon was dressed only in a man-skirt and seastone pauldrons. Nico had to grudgingly admit that the god was rather attractive.

Fortunately, Poseidon shrank down to a human size, armour and seashell crown dissolving into an outfit of khaki Bermuda shorts, leather sandals, Hawaiian shirt, and that god-awful tacky hat decorated with fishing lures. Nico immediately took back his appraisal of Poseidon’s hotness.

Nico was still somewhat disorientated, but it seemed that Will was the first to get a grip on reality. The son of Apollo tried to push himself to his feet, but instead, his arms trembled under his own weight before giving way and depositing him back on the floor with a loud, wet, smack.

“But…” croaked Will, his voice raw and scratched. The nausea was almost overwhelming, but he had nothing to spew. He didn’t want to start dry heaving all over again. By now, most of the water on Will had evaporated off in twisting tendrils of steam. “Connor…” he wheezed.

Poseidon tapped the floor thrice with Earthshaker before turning and sitting on his throne. The sound of the trident striking marble was thunderous in the otherwise silent throne room. It was followed by the sound of stone grating against stone. Nico craned his neck and watched as a circular cap of marble inlaid with a mosaic pattern, slid over the hole in the middle of the room. Once it fit, the gaps between the cap and the edges of the hole faded, leaving nothing to indicate that there was a portal into the Sound there other than the mosaic pattern.

“The Stoll boy will be alright” said Athena, frowning at Will as he tried again, without much success, to bring himself to his feet, or at least, to a sitting position. “It would be rather remiss of us gods and goddesses to allow the child of one of our number still missing to die when he could as easily have been saved” she continued, sternly.

Poseidon’s trident had shrunk with him. The Lord of the Sea leaned his chin on Earthshaker and regarded Will with the same frown as Athena. “The same applies to you, _boy_ ,” he rumbled. Will might very well have been 22, now, but compared to Poseidon, he was still a child.

Poseidon looked over at Athena, two thrones over, and grinned. “Ah,” he said. “The folly and hypocrisy of youth.” Poseidon pointed at Nico. “Tell _him_ not to overexert himself with his powers, but do the same yourself. How inconsiderate,” teased the Lord of the Sea. Then, Poseidon leaned back and allowed his trident to vanish off to wherever the gods’ weapons went when they were not in use.

Will coughed. Water sprayed all over the marble floor. The heat from his skin had dried out all the water on his body, but the same heat was not inside of him. Black robes swung into Will’s view as Hades stepped into the throne room. The cloth of Hades’ robes was devoid of the suffering evil souls that normal adorned it.

Right now, Hades’ robe was instead embroidered at the edges with a more elegant, silver-and-gold, angular swirling patterns. Where the cloth was normally oily, this looked almost velvety. “Now, now” said Hades, his voice washing over Nico and filling him with a profound sense of relief that he could not explain. “I know my son had a… _thing_ … for your son, brother” continued the Lord of the Dead as he bent down and gripped Will by the shoulders. “But you need not act so hostile to the one he chose over yours.”

The sound that followed would have stunned Nico, caught him utterly off guard, but he was too busy willing his face to not spontaneously burst into flames that Hades’ laughter, silky and almost… _joyful_ , went entirely over his head. Poseidon shifted on his chair, pouting at Hades. Athena rolled her eyes.

Before Nico could even try and pick himself up from where he’d fallen after being transformed back into human from being water, Hades had already knelt by his side, seized him by the shoulders, and pulled him to his feet. Nico looked at Hades and was surprised by how relatively festive Hades was dressed.

Nico tentatively smiled at Hades, surprised when the gesture was returned. “Fathe—” The respectful nod that Nico had been about to go for was cut off, when, in a show of truly deep, profound, personal emotion, Hades wrapped his arms around his son. Nico’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his head. This was a side of Hades that he had not known even existed, much less one that he would show so openly in front of others. Perhaps not only the demigods had been changed by the three years that Nico was away.

That concept was almost instantly challenged by the sound of Poseidon choking on his throne. Nico cracked his eyes open. He’d not realized that he’d closed them, just savouring the feeling of having a father that loved him. He looked over at where Athena was sitting. The goddess of Wisdom was smiling, amused.

“Father…” said Nico, a tenderness to his voice that he had not expected to be there. For the first time, Nico became acutely aware that Hades’ arms were trembling. Nico could tell that his own arms were as well.

Sure, Hades hugged Nico with a tentativeness that bespoke of true ignorance of how to interact with other individuals, even his own children, but all the same, ever since their little chat in that chapel of bones, Nico had come to realize that Hades truly loved his children. To have his father show him such affection brought tears to Nico’s eyes, alongside a fresh wave of guilt for vanishing so suddenly and unceremoniously.

Just when Nico thought he was getting over the day’s pleasant surprises, the least of which was his father hugging him, Persephone walked over to the father-and-son duo and embraced them both.

Hades was just as shocked as Nico, and both men stared at the goddess with slack jaws. Hades let go of Nico and stepped back, looking wide-eyed at his wife. Persephone smiled cordially at Hades then brushed away a stray lock of hair from Nico’s face. “My dear little dandelion,” she said with a tenderness that Nico was entirely not used to.

“By the gods you’ve changed…” Persephone said, voice breaking somewhat. Nico could see that her hands were trembling. Persephone was frankly terrified that Nico would push her away. Hades’ eyes narrowed, but he realized that there was little he could do with Nico while Persephone was in the way.

Hades walked over to Will and placed a palm over the son of Apollo’s forehead. They weren’t too late, but Will needed treatment very soon. The healer was mumbling deliriously. Hades looked at his son’s romantic interest. “Believe me, child, I do not believe what I’m seeing either.”

“What you beauty you can work with these hands of yours…” said Persephone, reaching down and finding Nico’s hands. She brought them up and squeezed them. “What misery this strong heart of yours can endure…” she continued, eyes wet with tears.

Nico di Angelo was far too stunned to say or do anything about the closeness, though at the same time, he wasn’t sure if he was going to do anything about it even if he could. There was something about this change in Persephone’s attitude towards him that flipped a switch in Nico.

While he didn’t appreciate being reminded of the day he’d been turned into a dandelion during a family spat, Nico couldn’t help but blush from Persephone’s attention. Nico glanced at his father who was tending to Will. Hades’ expression was serious, but pensive, and Nico knew that Hades was on the cusp of figuring out part of the reason why Persephone was reacting so warmly to Nico’s return.

Hades was not stupid. He was anything but. Perhaps his brothers lacked his wisdom and cunning, but Hades was not his brothers. Nico could practically hear the gears in his father’s head turning. Of all the gods, Hades had to be the most inventive, the most intelligent, second only to perhaps Athena. He had the sole responsibility of designing creative punishments for the worst criminals in history for their eternities in the Fields of Punishment.

A look of realization crossed Hades’ face, and instantly, Nico knew that his father had figured out there was only one possible reason for why Persephone was now treating her once-despised stepson with such affection. Persephone had known what Nico was doing. Persephone had seen it. Persephone had helped him.

Nevertheless, there was one thing that Hades failed to see: that his wife was just as capable of cunning as he was. The moment that Persephone briefly lifted her hand from Nico’s and showed him the glittering blue gemstone, he understood that her affection was not only to express her happiness at his return, but also to inquire on how his quest had gone.

Hades had said he could entertain the notion that Nico had multiple reasons. Nico had to wonder if his father could do the same for his stepmother. Persephone pressed warm lips against Nico’s forehead, eyes still twinkling with unshed tears. “You did not have to do it, my dandelion,” she said, voice heavy with sympathy for Nico.

Nico reddened even further. “No, Persephone,” he said, grimly. Their conversation was private. Nico was pressing a tiny blue gem into Persephone’s hand. The magic in the stone was making sure that none but the two of them could hear or perceive in any way that they were having a conversation. To everyone else, they were just having a moment.

There was surprise in Persephone’s eyes, then abject terror. “I needed to! For everyone we know and love! You know that!” said Nico, temper flaring.

Persephone shushed him, though not sternly. Her tone of voice was motherly. Affectionate. Nico’s heart skipped a beat. “My little dandelion, I only meant that one as young as you should not ever have to go through what you have gone through.” Persephone wrapped her arms around Nico and held him close for a moment.

Both Nico and Persephone jumped when Hades audibly cleared his throat. Persephone wiped her eyes and stepped away from Nico, dropping his hands and slipping the gemstone into the folds of her clothing. Persephone straightened, then, confidently, nodded at Hades before walking back to her throne.

Nico looked over at his father. Will was sitting in a chair, looking absolutely miserable. “It’s okay…” mouthed Will at Nico. “I’ll be okay.” From the pallor of Will’s face and the sweat on his brow and the heat wafting from him that Nico was beginning to feel, somehow, the son of Hades doubted that.

Hades looked at Nico, then at Will. He frowned. He placed his palm against Will’s forehead again. His eyes widened in alarm. Hades shot a glance at Athena. The goddess jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. Nico was absolutely baffled.

There was a disgruntled bleat from one side of the room that made Nico’s head turn towards the source. A satyr was bearing a platter of ambrosia, though it looked somewhat different from what Nico was used to. It took a moment for it to register with Nico that it was a faun, not a satyr.

Hades grabbed the platter from the faun and glared at the poor goat-man. The Lord of the Underworld was not particularly fond of the servants that Poseidon and Athena had jointly elected to serve as stewards of the Theopolis. Then, Hades shoved the plate of ambrosia into Will’s hands.

Will shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, only to find it stuffed, a heartbeat later, with a square of ambrosia. “Eat,” said Hades sternly. “Eat or you will destroy us all.” It was on that rather grim note that Hades turned to his son and started smiling again.

Nico wasn’t sure what to think of what was going on. To be entirely truthful, he found it all quite bizarre. He had to wonder if he was dreaming such a vivid dream that he could _feel_ the things going on in the dream.

“You are not dreaming, my son” said Hades with a chuckle, walking up to Nico and gripping him by the shoulders. “You’ve changed,” said Hades. “Handsome like your old man, I see,” teased Hades. Nico turned a couple more shades of crimson at the arrogant compliment. He’d expected the like from Poseidon, not his father.

“Nico,” said Hades, the slight tremor in his voice was so subtle that Nico almost missed it. Still, he took note of it. There was a warmth in his chest. “You have been missed…” said Hades with a sad smile. The god breathed deeply. “ _I_ have missed you.” And with those words, Hades successfully quieted Nico’s racing thoughts. All that was left to the Italian demigod was the warm, pleasant tingle that started to spread through him from his chest, and where his father was holding him affectionately by the shoulders. Nico couldn’t help the tears that came to his eyes then and there.

\----------

Hades looked deeply into Nico’s eyes and saw the incredulity there. Such cynicism. He’d hoped the world would not be so cruel to this son of his, but Hades had long since realized that it already had. “My son…” said Hades, voice breathy. Then he chuckled. The sound was warm. Strange, coming from the Lord of the Dead. “You need not be so surprised,” quipped Hades. The god squeezed Nico’s shoulders affectionately before taking his one hand and gesturing around the throne room, where apparently, the gods and goddesses were already convening. “We gods and goddesses, after all, love our children.”

Then Hades winked at Nico and looked pointedly at Will. “Headstrong and rash as they might be,” he finished. Nico followed Hades’ gaze towards Will. The son of Apollo wasn’t looking nearly as terrible as he had a few minutes ago, but he still looked rather sick.

Will was just nibbling on the end of a square of ambrosia. The look on his face was one of concentration. It was almost like he was trying his best to not throw up. Aphrodite appeared on a nearby throne and glowered at Nico. “One would think you’d go to a party looking more presentable,” she said.

Hades turned and frowned at the goddess, but before he could say anything, she’d waved her hand. Nico’s threadbare shirt and tattered jeans were instantly replaced by something more appropriate to the occasion for Nico. That is, a black shirt with a skull print, and straight-cut charcoal gray jeans.

Nico’s shoes, worn and in rather poor condition were restored to new in front of his eyes. Will was watching Nico’s transformation, and what Aphrodite did with the unruly mop of dark hair that adorned Nico’s head made him suck in his breath sharply, almost choking on a piece of ambrosia. Yes, there was still the tousled look, but gone were the random licks of hair sticking out in odd directions. If anything, all of it just added to Nico’s new-found attractiveness.

Nico di Angelo looked absolutely dashing, yet, Aphrodite was frowning. At first Hades was confused. Then, he started frowning as well as soon as he turned around and saw what was causing Aphrodite’s distress. “What?” she asked, before snapping her fingers.

Nico could almost _feel_ the divine power wash over him, but nothing happened. Nico’s tattered drakon-skin cloak was still draped around his shoulders. If anything, it seemed to pulse with renewed life when Aphrodite tried to touch it with her powers. A hush fell over the assembled gods and Aphrodite’s frown deepened into a scowl. A heartbeat later, she smoothed out her expression and sat back, pensive.

Two more heartbeats. Silence. Afterwards, picking up as though nothing had happened between Hades’ utterance and then, there was a murmur of assent from around the room. Nico frowned at how easily the gods dismissed something that they didn’t like. He knew the reason. They were going to talk about him as soon as he was no longer present. Especially his cloak.

Nevertheless, Nico didn’t know the gods to all be particularly cooperative. He decided to take a moment to look around at the assembly of gods, major and minor, sitting on stones of marble with veins of glittering gold and rippling sea-stone.

None of the thrones were taller than the others. All of them were equals. All of them were arranged in such a way that they formed a circular array, save for the centre aisle. It reminded him of the arrangement of King Arthur and his knights. None to rise above the others. Equals, one and all.

To see the gods seemingly with no objection to this order of things was truly astonishing. Nico turned back to his father just as Hades stepped up to him and ruffled Nico’s hair affectionately. Nico brushed away the hand and scowled at his father. “Don’t tou—”

Hades’ laugh was boisterous and could have rivaled Poseidon’s in anything but volume. Hades was still a soft-spoken man, even uninhibited as he was at the moment. “You are indeed my son,” he said. “But I love you, and because of that love, have missed you for three years.”

“Perhaps I do not like physical contact,” said Hades. “No, it’s not even a matter of perhaps. I really do _not_ like physical contact, save in particular situations,” he said, looking at Persephone, who turned red and looked away, a reaction that Nico caught, much to his chagrin.

“But my reservations about touch can wait for another day,” finished Hades, smiling at Nico. The son of Hades turned red once more. It was almost too much to handle. All the affection, the open admittance of his father’s love for him, it was a profound, earth-shattering difference from the Camp Half-Blood he’d been at three years ago.

That the gods seemed to be perfectly fine being on equal footing, and that his father felt free to show just how much he cared for Nico, were strange, alien concepts to him. He felt as much an anachronism in _this_ Camp Half-Blood as he had in the modern world after the Lotus Casino.

Hades squeezed Nico’s shoulders again. Then, the god tilted his head, black hair cascading down the side of his face. “He did well with you, my son,” said the Lord of the Dead, with a smile.

“However,” said Hades, with a smirk. Nico’s hand came up defensively, but Hades had already poked his finger through a spot in the lobe of Nico’s ear. “He may have missed a spot,” said Hades with a chuckle. Again, he ruffled Nico’s hair. Again, Nico brushed the hand away.

Hades chuckled, before looking over at where Will still hadn’t finished the square of ambrosia in his hand. “He definitely did a number on himself as well, though not in as good a sense…” said the Lord of the Dead, his voice suddenly turning grim as he walked towards where Will was sitting.

The healer opened his mouth to protest, but Poseidon stomped his foot on the floor. Apparently the sound of flip-flops slapping onto marble was as good as a gavel, because Will immediately shut up. “Don’t presume to make excuses, boy,” said Poseidon, eyes flashing. “You were specifically _told_ what would happen if you over-used your powers,” thundered the patron of the city, in a voice that would have made Zeus proud.

Hades turned to Poseidon and frowned at his brother. “I told you, brother,” said Hades, coolly. “Mind your temper. I’m sure the boy had his reasons. Let him speak,” said Hades.

Hades was not a healer deity, but like his children, he could sense how close people were to death, and Will was rather uncomfortably near. “I-I-I…” stammered Will, his hand falling limply to his lap, uneaten.

Will looked over at Nico and the tattered drakon-skin cloak that hung about his shoulders. All of a sudden, the trembling of Will’s hands subsided. The slump in Will’s posture vanished, and he straightened in the chair, eyes boring into Hades’.

There was a confidence about Will, even as rivulets of sweat ran down his face from his brow, that made a veritable army of skeletal butterflies in Nico’s stomach resurrect. “I did what I had to do,” said Will, voice firm. The son of Apollo locked eyes with Nico. “Nico was fading. He was weak. He would have died if I didn’t do anything.”

“And,” said a voice that was not entirely welcome for Nico, but nonetheless familiar. “Let’s not forget the important reason.” Red-eyed and harshly handsome as ever, Cupid sat on a throne beside his mother. “You love him.” Nico glared at Cupid, but couldn’t help but turn the same shade of red as Will.

Hades raised an eyebrow at Cupid. The god shrugged. “And in the process,” said the Lord of the Dead, tapping the armrest of the chair that Will was sitting on, “almost doomed him, and everyone else you hold dear as well.”

“Your recklessness could very well have wiped Camp Half-Blood and maybe even a part of the Theopolis clean off the face of the earth, Will Solace,” said Hades sternly, much to the chagrin and confusion of Nico. “I told you that if you ever needed to help my son from his fading, do it little by little.”

Will opened his mouth once again to defend himself. Then the son of Apollo looked into Hades’ eyes and promptly shut up again. He was definitely in the wrong here. He’d been reckless. “What do you mean, father?” asked Nico, somewhat confused by all the fuss over Will.

The square of ambrosia Will had been nibbling on was still there, half-eaten. Hades looked at the food and scowled at Will. “I told you to eat, not peck at your food,” said the god sternly. Will blanched and shoved the entire square into his mouth. Nico had to suppress a laugh.

Hades turned to Nico, satisfied that he’d sufficiently terrorized Will into consuming the ambrosia at a rate that would see him recovered rather quickly. “When you overuse your powers, as you may very well be painfully aware of by now, you fade, yes?”

Nico nodded. He knew this. Especially now. He had not known it before he tried to shadow-travel halfway across the globe, but that was beyond the point. “Were you to push yourself past the point of no return, you would slip — no, fade, quietly into the shadows.”

Hades gestured at Will, who was stuffing his face with a second square of ambrosia and looking at Nico with an expression that clearly said _‘save me._ ’ “This boy over here, on the other hand…” Hades’ expression had turned rather grim. “His entire being would turn into most brilliant light, and nothing would remain living within a couple of miles.”

For the first time since they’d arrived at the Theopolis, Nico took a good long look at Will. “See for yourself,” said Hades. “He’s glowing.” Sure enough, it was true. There was an aura of radiance around Will. Nico couldn’t believe he’d missed it.

Underneath Will’s skin, veins and membranes of light seemed to be trying to break out. The pattern, subtle, but nonetheless visible on closer inspection, looked almost like the patterns of light that seawater made on the ocean floor on a sunny day.

Still, Nico didn’t quite understand how Will’s turning into pure light was as bad as the gods seemed to be making it out to be. In between his third and fourth square of ambrosia, which seemed to be reducing the light in Will’s body, Will looked over at Nico, swallowed quickly, and said, “Nico, light is… energy. If I died that way, the amount of energy released would be immense.”

Nico was still confused. Sure, he didn’t want Will to die in a brilliant burst of light, but he still didn’t understand why that would be such a bad thing. Or at least, why it would be something bad enough that it could wipe Camp Half-Blood off the map.

Athena looked amused. “Sometimes, even we gods forget that you are not from this century, or millennium, even,” she said. Nico’s eyes were riveted on Will. The moment the son of Apollo finished his fourth square of ambrosia, the light had mostly dissipated.

Hades swatted away Will’s hand and grabbed the plate of ambrosia. The food of the gods had served to feed Will’s light enough to stabilize it, but any more, and Will would have undergone spontaneous combustion. Will, nevertheless, hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He tried a second time to get another square of ambrosia. Hades slapped his hand away again.

“When you light a match, Nico di Angelo, what happens?” inquired Athena. Poseidon leaned forward in his throne, listening intently. The Lord of the Sea was interested in whether or not his nephew would be able to figure out the question.

If there was anything that Poseidon knew for sure, it was that Percy wouldn’t. Percy would answer that the match would burn, but that was too easy. Poseidon, if he knew Athena at all, was aware that the easy answer would not be the one she was looking for at all.

Nico was confused by the question, but the more he thought about it, eyebrows knotted, he realized why it was a good analogy. “It burns,” he said. Poseidon smirked. Athena made to say something, but Nico forged on. “But that’s not the important thing, is it?”

Hades was smiling. He could practically hear the gears in his son’s head spinning. “When you light a match, it makes fire. It makes light!” he said. “And, heat.” There would be heat accompanying Will’s turning into light, if he interpreted Athena’s question correctly, mused Nico. Yet, he still didn’t understand how that would be bad enough to destroy all of Camp Half-Blood. A match wasn’t that small, and it certainly wasn’t that hot. Even a match as large as Will, Nico thought, would certainly burn bright and hot, but he doubted it would be enough to destroy buildings unless it set them on fire.

“Clever boy, this one, Hades,” said Athena, eyes shining. She was impressed. Hades looked at Nico, and though the corners of his lips twitched in a slight smile, his eyes said everything, he was proud of his son. “But he is uneducated,” continued the goddess.

“Through no fault of his own, mind you,” she said, at the outraged expressions on Nico’s and Hades’ faces. “You may think that it’s just a little heat and light, and it wouldn’t bother anyone but the people he’s nearest to.” Nico nodded. That was exactly what he was thinking of.

“But there is a fundamental difference between a match and the object of your affections over there,” said Athena, waving a hand dismissively in the direction of Will. “When a match _burns,_ it just changes forms. The stuff that makes it up turns into smoke, and into soot.”

Athena was deliberately talking in simple terms because she knew that Nico didn’t have the education to know physics and chemistry. “Think of it like sugar turning into caramel,” she said. “Only a tiny fraction of the match actually turns into heat and light.”

“Have you ever seen a dynamite explosion?” inquired the goddess. Nico nodded, though he couldn’t remember how. “Imagine enough dynamite to fill this room exploding.” Nico grimaced. It was not a pretty sight. “Now imagine ten times that many.” Nico blanched. Was that how powerful Will’s light was? “That is how much destruction a single matchstick can unleash if what will happen to the healer happened to it.”

“The mortals have figured out a way to harness this energy,” said Athena. “They call it the nuclear bomb.” Will made a sound. Hades looked grim. Nico had a vague idea of what they were talking about.

“Perhaps if you overuse your abilities, you will go quietly into the night, Nico di Angelo, but this boy, this rare son of Apollo, the destruction he will unleash is unimaginably many times worse than what that single match could do. He will be consumed in a brilliant flash of unfathomably bright radiance, and an incomprehensible heat. He would burn away the camp and everyone in it in a heartbeat. That is the danger of his power.” When Athena finished, Nico was shaking with fear and awe. He looked at Will. Will looked at him.

They were both afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty. So. That happened. >:]
> 
> What do you think? Did you enjoy the chapter? Did that first scene change how you viewed Wyn? Do you think he's a villain? :3. How about Hades? Is his change-of-heart believable? Oh. And *gasp* WHAT HAPPENED TO CONNOR?
> 
> *coughs* Anyway. As usual! I'd like to hear your thoughts. <3\. I have something special planned on Saturday, in lieu of the regular update, so keep tuned for that. <3.


	9. Thunder's Only Fear

“Enough,” slurred Dionysus, who was slumped against one side of his throne. “…Enough of this serious talk,” he said, body practically draped over the armrest. Hades wrinkled his nose in displeasure. In the days following Olympus being sealed off, the Dionysus had hoped that Zeus’ punishment for him, that prevented him from even touching alcohol, would lift.

Much to the chagrin of Dionysus, it had not. As the days, weeks, and months had dragged on from that day, Dionysus had grown more and more dejected and depressed. He feared that the curse had become permanent. Unfortunately, he didn’t have alcohol to drown his sorrows in. “We haveuh—” Dionysus sighed. “We have a party to attend.”

Hades shook his head in disgust as he walked over to Nico. If there was one thing that the Lord of the Dead did not want to do at this moment, it was agree with Dionysus.

In fact, Hades didn’t want to _ever_ agree with something that Dionysus vehemently approved of, if only for the joy of partying. “My _dear_ —” Hades said the word with contempt that made Nico flinch. Dionysus frowned for a moment. Then the god of Wine grumbled something unintelligible.

If Nico had to, he would hazard a guess that what Dionysus had said was probably about an ungrateful and unloving uncle. Fortunately for the son of Hades, he did not have to, nor did he want to get involved with any godly spats whatsoever. “—nephew is right. We do have a party to attend,” said Hades.

Nico stared at his father for a moment. The hugs and the affection were one thing, but Hades wanting to attend a party was a bit too much. Hades laughed and ruffled Nico’s hair a third time. On this occasion, Nico actually hissed like an offended cat at Hades. Then he abashedly looked at his feet instantly afterwards.

Even Aphrodite was getting annoyed at Hades constantly messing up Nico’s hair. She snapped her fingers again and Nico’s hair fixed itself. Then, Hades started laughing boisterously at Nico. The laugh was far happier and louder than what Nico had expected of his father.

Poseidon looked like he was about to fall out of his chair at the rather out-of-character way that Hades was acting. Even Persephone looked rather incredulous. Nico felt a hand around his chin. He knew it was his father’s, so he didn’t resist when his head was tilted back so that Hades might look upon his face directly. “You truly are a son of mine, and perhaps a cat,” said Hades with a smile.

Nico was beginning to warm up to the idea of Hades attending a party, but Hades joking was still unsettling.

Yet, even though the sentiment had already been repeated, Nico felt a swell of pride in his chest… Even as he swatted away Hades’ hand on his chin and backed away. The rest of the gods were amused. Even Hades himself had a twinkle in his eyes.

Nico looked at Will for the first time in a little while and realized that Will looked more than a little displeased at how Hades was touching Nico. The son of Hades shot his new boyfriend a warning look. Nico knew that under normal circumstances, his father would not need much of an excuse to send Will packing off to the underworld.

Nico wasn’t aware, however, of what the rules were for the boyfriends of Hades’ children. Nico mused that he had to check with Hazel and Frank and ask whether Hades had personally threatened Frank with eternal damnation, or if he’d sent the Furies to do that for him.

Hades was already walking towards the door to the chamber when Nico took two steps forward and called out. “F-father,” he stuttered, trying to find the words to ask what he wanted to. “I-I… I don’t… I don’t understand…”

“Oh,” said Hades, with a curious lilt to his voice that Nico did not fail to catch. “You don’t understand why I am, all of a sudden, affectionate?” asked the Lord of the Dead, turning. Hades clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his posture.

This small change gave Hades a more regal and formal bearing that Nico was far more used to, as opposed to the more fatherly countenance that had made an appearance earlier. “My son,” said Hades, a tenderness in his voice. “As Lord of the Dead, I never feared of losing you, because I knew you would always return to me in the end, whenever that end might be.”

Nico, more than anyone, knew what Hades was talking about. In that chapel where he’d first felt the dredges of affection from his father, he’d mused on what had then been a fact, that no matter what happened, in the end he would sit at the foot of his father’s throne.

Nico was beginning to understand, and he was beginning to suspect what Hades would say next. “Three years, my son,” said Hades, something in his voice that Nico could not quite name. “It has been three years since I felt your presence on this earth.” Hades met Nico’s eyes. “That is something which, I am sure, we will talk about soon enough.” Nico nodded. There was something important that he had to tell his father, a choice that he had to give the Lord of the Dead, to doom them all, or to delay that doom long enough for a defense to be mounted.

“We,” said Hades, spreading his arms and gesturing to envelop all the myriad gods now seated on their thrones. “We are the gods of Ancient Greece. _I_ am a god of that old, old people. _I_ am not immutable like some other inferior gods the mortals claim belief in, like that desert god of Israel. I change.” Hades voice was like lead in his throat, but he persevered through his grand speech. If anything, he was just delaying what he wanted to say.

“That ability to change is what makes us—” The gods and goddesses rose as one. “— _All_ of us, strong. We can change. And, my son, three years has taught me far more than all the other years of my long, long life combined.” Hades let loose a heavy breath.

“I lost you,” said the Lord of the Dead, blinking. “I _truly_ lost you for three years.” Hades turned his back on Nico once more. Nico wondered if he was delusional or if he’d actually caught sight of tears in Hades’ eyes. “It was a loss that I never thought I, as Lord of the Dead, would ever know.”

“And yet I did,” said Hades, the slight tremble in his voice evident for all to hear. “And in those years of your absence, my son, I realized that I needed to be a better father. Not only to you, but to all my children.”

“However, especially for the one that I’d lost, if he ever returned.” There was silence. The rest of the gods were motionless where they stood in front of their thrones. The lesson that had struck Hades had struck them all as well. Though the gods knew they could visit their children in the underworld at any time, Nico’s disappearance for three years, from even the eyes and ears of Hades drove home a very poignant point. Even godhood could not guarantee that you would never lose your children.

Aphrodite was the next to speak. The stunned expression on Nico’s face had been enough to make her step forward. The expression on the goddess’ face was serious, so different from how Nico had come to know her over the years. “Loss has a strange way of reminding us of the importance o the things we once had, Nico di Angelo.”

Aphrodite looked meaningfully first at Nico, then at Will, who was tentatively rising from his chair. “Sometimes, it is truly the only way to understand the value of things we felt and buried under many feet of dirt. Sometimes, it is the only way to truly learn to love.”

Then a smile, beautiful as any, graced Aphrodite’s face. “Give an old, old man what he’s craved for so long, but has been too afraid to ask for,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of Hades. Nico looked at Aphrodite before closing the distance to his father and throwing his arms around Hades in an embrace.

Aphrodite walked across the chamber and helped Will to his feet. For a moment, the son of Apollo staggered back as he saw what had happened to Jason and Piper, and Jason’s slow, inexorable falling for him in his mind’s eye. “And sometimes,” said Aphrodite sadly, looking into Will’s soft blue eyes that were wide and brimming with tears. “Sometimes loss is what helps us understand that what once was… Wasn’t really worth the pain.” Will blinked at the feeling of Aphrodite brushing away his tears.

In his mind, Will could hear Aphrodite’s words clearly. “ _You had a choice to make, son of Apollo. You chose. You cannot fathom the pain that Jason Grace is feeling at this moment, but I need only remind you, the price for your happiness is his, and he gladly paid that price._ ”

Then Aphrodite stepped away from Will and declared, laughing as though nothing had happened “Now come on, we have a party to get to!” The doors to the chamber of the gods swung open with a dull boom that shook the entire structure. Aphrodite strode out on the head of a column of gods and goddesses.

The procession was mostly for show. A symbol of the gods’ newfound unity. They could all probably have just popped out of existence in chamber and popped back in at the square, but that would have been far too simple for the gods.

Slowly, Nico extricated himself from Hades. The Lord of the Dead had been stunned into silence. Vengeance, mused Nico. Hades was aware that his own son was every bit as unaffectionate as he was. Or, well, had been. They’d both changed, profoundly, over the years.

“Nico,” said Will, walking up to the father-and-son duo. Only the three of them were left in the chamber.

Nico waved his hand at his boyfriend, gesturing for Will to go on ahead. “Go ahead, Will,” said Nico, a gravity creeping into his voice that Hades did not miss. “I’ll catch up.”

As much as Nico loved what had transpired and as much as he loved the joy of feeling his father’s love, he had to shatter it, or at least, some part of it. “Father,” said Nico, turning to his godly parent. “Can we have a moment to talk? In private?” Hades nodded. He was not about to deny his son this opportunity. If only Hades had known what was about to transpire, he would not have agreed.

Will looked tentatively from father to son, then back again. Then, expression tight, he smiled tersely and bowed out of the chamber into the streets beyond. Nico stared after him.

A few moments later, Will looked back, blue eyes meeting Nico’s brown ones that were dilated with fear. Will frowned and looked like he wanted to come back, but Nico’s eyes told him not to. A few moments later, he looked back again. Then, he ducked around a nearby corner.

“Now, what is this about?” asked Hades. His father’s voice startled him. At the same time, the source of the voice had also surprised him. He’d not noticed that Hades had moved to stand at his side, watching Will walk away with him. “If this is about the boy…”

Hades cracked a small smile. “I’ve only one thing to say, my son.” Nico grimaced. If he was getting _the talk,_ he was going to strangle someone. “No more harassment. Understood?” Nico looked at Hades, wide-eyed. Again, Hades joking was completely baffling for Nico.

“… Sometimes I forget how humourless I once was,” quipped the Lord of the Dead, smiling genuinely at his son. “No, I’m just saying that I’m glad he’s not one of Zeus’ or Poseidon’s, because if that was the case, I would have genuinely urged you to look for better. Though, if I must be truthful, I have never been able to stand the boy’s father either.”

“And of course,” said Hades, squeezing Nico’s shoulder. “I approve because I know he makes you happy.” There was something about those words that made Nico have to choke back a sob. He was _so_ relieved.

“Dad…” said Nico. The word hung in the air between Nico and his father. It was such a simple word, but it was so powerful, it brought fresh tears to Hades’ eyes. Hades had longed, though he’d never dared admit it, for Nico to call him that.

Of course, Hades would have expected and appreciated the more formal ‘father’ in the company of others, but in private moments like these, he had often found himself idly wishing that Nico would call him dad, like so many of the gods’ mortal children called their fathers.

Hades smiled and squeezed Nico’s shoulder again. “I approve,” he reiterated. “Will Solace is not his father,” said Hades, returning to his place in front of Nico. He kept his distance this time. “He is a powerful boy, that one. His powers are rare. The first to have them of his kin. One as to wonder why…”

Hades trailed off. Then he shook his head and looked at Nico. “If you’re looking for advice, I suppose I can offer you some,” said the Lord of the Dead, seemingly rather uncomfortable at the thought of breaching this topic with Nico. “I’m not so sure how helpful it would be. I have never been the best at giving advice… Though if you must know, my son, all of us gods have taken male lovers at some point or another.”

Nico couldn’t help but laugh, even though the thought of his father in bed with another man was mortifying. Nico’s laugh was so light-hearted and carefree, that it brought a smile to Hades’ face. The mirth that Nico felt at that moment served to somewhat ease the burden that was riding on his shoulders. “I do like him, father,” said Nico, genuinely. “More than I have anyone else.”

Three years had done nothing to temper the feelings that Nico had felt for Will. Even the wonderful time he’d spent with Wyn had served only to reinforce those emotions. “Yes, dad, even more than the boy I _harassed_ you about,” he teased. Hades couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“I am glad you are finding your own happiness, my son,” said Hades. The Lord of the Dead walked over to Nico and ruffled his hair before hopping back to dodge the hand that came down in defense, whistling through the air. “I may be ancient as Greece itself, but I am no pushover, Nico,” challenged Hades, the corners of his lips upturned in a smile.

Nico rolled his eyes. “Dad,” he said. “I don’t even know if this is going to work out between Will and me.” Hades shrugged. That was nothing new. Relationships failed all the time, though some of them did so more spectacularly than others.

Nico looked down and smiled to himself. “But I know that we’re going to try our best.” Some memories of his good times with Wyn surfaced. He _knew_ he could do a good stable relationship. It just took a lot of work.

“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, though…” Nico’s voice trailed off. He was already preparing for the worst. He took in a deep ragged breath as he willed the colour that stained his cheeks away. It wasn’t very effective, but at least he was no longer dangerously pink.

“I can entertain the notion that you might have wanted to talk to me for more than one reason,” teased Hades, reminding Nico that he had not yet forgotten the conversation they’d had in the chapel of bones, and the words that he’d said sincerely then. ‘ _I want you to be an exception_.’

Nico breathed deeply one more time, and tried his best to return the smile that his father showed him. He couldn’t. The upward-curl of his lips faltered almost instantly. Yet, despite that, the drakon-skin cloaked over his straightened back in such a way that gave him an air of authority of someone with the experience of leading armies.

Hades looked at his son, and the profound transformation that had just taken place before his very eyes. The years truly had changed Nico, and only now was Hades beginning to understand that he had barely scratched the surface with Nico’s openness to affection.

“I wish it could be good news, father,” said Nico, reverting to a much more formal tone that startled Hades more for the fact that his son had answered the question he’d been thinking than the sudden change in attitude.

“No, I am not reading your mind, father,” said Nico, simply. His eyes were darting everywhere, just trying to avoid Hades’ gaze. This was difficult. It was not every day that a demigod would give a god an ultimatum. “I merely have common sense. No one wishes for bad news…” he said quietly.

“Can this not wait, then?” asked Hades, voice equally soft as the doors behind him swung a little bit shut. There was clear apprehension in Hades now. Even more than before, Hades was convinced that there were new layers to Nico that he would never be able to peel back.

Hades had not seen it at first. His vision had been clouded by his joy at the return of the son he’d thought lost to oblivion. Now it was stark as day. Crystal clear. The proof was standing before him. Nico di Angelo was not at all the same son he’d beheld three years ago. “We have a celebration to attend, after all,” said Hades, hopefully, though he knew that the answer would be no.

“I wish it could, father,” said Nico grimly. “But you and I both know it cannot.” Hades shrugged but both of them knew what he was thinking. At least he’d tried.

“There are choices to be made at every junction in history,” said Nico. “You, father, should know this better than anyone. Well, save Hecate, probably, but that’s beyond the point,” he continued, trying his best at a grin that turned out more like a grimace.

“As I am sure you’re aware, many things are beyond the purview of Olympus…” Hades nodded, still unsure where this was going. “Our defeat of Gaea was only the first. Do you understand what we’ve done, father?” asked the son of Hades. Hades didn’t.

“Did you really think, father, that destroying one of the _Protogenoi_ would not rouse the others to action?” demanded Nico, eyes blazing. Hades bared his teeth. He did not understand. Nico’s tone had turned colder… more vindictive. “There is an enemy on the horizon and I need to warn you, father, that you will have to make a choice soon enough.”

“I’ve managed to slow them down to a crawl, but I can only keep them at bay for so long, father.” Nico’s voice rasped with the effort of concentration that it required to keep his words from alerting their enemies. Hades could feel the thrum of power in his skull.

Since when had his son been proficient in the arcane arts? Moreso, since when had Nico been able to suppress the power of words themselves? Nico’s hand darted within the folds of his drakonskin cloak and he brought out a shard of star-spangled obsidian.

The demigod looked deeply into the dark volcanic glass. The spell was still holding, though only barely. Nico needed to bolster it again, if only for a little while longer. Using the sharp point of the shard, Nico pricked his thumb and smeared blood across the surface of the shard. That would hold the spell. At least for a few more hours.

Hades could feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. To Nico, it looked almost as though his father’s two aspects were beginning to separate. Hades was constantly shifting between his Greek and Roman selves.

“I don’t…” Hades groaned, his hands rising to his temples. The pain was flaring. “I don’t understand!” he growled.

Nico nodded. He had not expected his father to. There was a profound sadness in the demigod’s eyes as his father staggered away from him. The doors slammed shut with a hollow boom and Hades’ back collided with them. For a split second, Hades and Pluto existed as separate entities, flung apart by the force with which Hades threw himself across the doors.

A heartbeat later, the projections of Hades’ two aspects rebounded and slammed into one another, leaving a vibrating, hazy image that seemed to be the two aspects overlaid on each other. “I hate that it has come to this, father,” said Nico.

Part of the reason that Hades was feeling so torn was because of the old, old magicks that Nico was invoking. The floor of the chamber split open, but instead of saltwater gushing out of the wound in the marble, black mist spewed. Nico stretched out his hand, and a heartbeat later, his Stygian Iron sword rose from the swirling eddies of dark mist.

“W-what sorcery…” managed Hades, as his forms began to stabilize. “What sorcery is this?” he panted. He’d never felt so sapped of power before. Nico reached out over the chasm that was still spilling its darkness, and grabbed the sword. Instantly, the chasm closed with the sound of grating stone.

In one smooth motion, Nico unsheathed the three-foot blade from its scabbard, not the same one as Hades had originally given him. This scabbard was designed to keep the sword’s potent magic sealed in. As Nico withdrew the blade, the metal screamed against the sides of the scabbard, dropping Hades to his knees, hands over his ears.

Nico’s power, augmented by a different magic that he’d learned elsewhere, had forced the _entirety_ of Hades’ essence into this chamber with him. Hades staggered to his feet, nostrils flaring with barely-contained fury, eyes wide with sheer terror. In a moment of terrible judgment, Hades flung the full wrath of the Underworld at his son.

It was only as the torrent of darkness was leaping from his fingers at the defenseless Nico di Angelo that Hades realized his mistake. “NO!” he roared, but not before the darkness had done its duty. Only, moments later, Hades realized that Nico was not defenseless at all.

The drakonskin cloak around Nico’s shoulders no longer looked as tattered as it had once been. The very leather of it pulsed with subtle but visible purple-red veins. The surface was rippling. Nico had a smug look on his face.

“That weapon!” shouted Hades, trembling as he fell to his knees once more. “That weapon is an abomination!”

The Stygian Iron sword in Nico’s hands was different from the one that Hades had given his son. All along the edge of the weapon, in etched runes, glittered bronze, silver, and gold inlays. However, most notable was the thin strip of smooth misty white crystal that ran along the fuller on both sides of the short sword. “That weapon,” croaked Hades. “It will destroy you. I know not whence it came, nor what it’s capable of, but it _will_ destroy you!”

“That is a price I am willing to pay, father…” said Nico, his voice grave as he looked at the blade and marvelled, as he had time and again, at the craftsmanship that had gone into the weapon. It was perhaps the most terrifying weapon Greece had ever known, but as far as Nico was concerned, it was also a work of art.

Long ago… It already seemed so very long ago, that Nico had agreed to pay a terrible price for the weapon he now bore. Nico could only hope that escaping from those other lands would be enough to hinder his debtors enough until he had what he needed to repay his debt. “Chiron said that, too. A year and a half ago.”

The temperature in the room plummeted and thin ice spiralled across the marble of the chamber. Hades realized that Nico had been at camp then. His own son had been so close and yet he’d not even sensed him! Hades opened his mouth to speak, but Nico pressed on. “Do not be angry at the old centaur, father. He does not remember. No one remembers.”

There was a profound sadness in Nico’s eyes. Then, he raised the sword so that his father might see with greater clarity the crystals that ran down the centre on either side. “You did not…” whispered Hades. “Impossible…” There was simultaneously awe and fear in Hades’ voice. “Yet…”

Hades’ anger was still there, but it had been swamped by morbid curiosity. “You _crystallized_ the waters of the Lethe?” asked the Lord of the Dead in disbelief. Hades could see it now. Clearly. The colour of the crystal shifted just like the colour of the river. It was unprecedented. Immediately, Hades’ mind began to ponder the true power of the weapon. “How?” he asked.

Nico shrugged, almost dismissively. The crystallized Lethe water was not the most notable thing about the blade, but he supposed his father, being Greek, would not know that. “The poppies that grew along the banks. They… They held the key. I thought it was impossible too, but someone taught me otherwise.”

Nico saw Hades’ nostrils flare in anger once more. “No, father, it was not Persephone.” Hades responded with a confused grunt. “Someone else,” said Nico, flatly. There was no time for explanations. “Someone older…” Nico threw up his hands, exasperated. “We have no time for this, father.”

“There are armies being raised against us as we speak. Olympus cannot stand divided as it is,” said Nico, his voice booming across the walls of the chamber. “I was hoping it would not have to come to this, but father, the choice will come for you soon enough.”

“It is a terrible act, and you will have to pay a terrible price. Yet, it is only because I do not possess the power to do so. You will bear the scars so long as this weapon exists, if you choose to do what I hope you will.” Hades was angry. Nico had _no_ right to be telling him what to do.

Hades rose to his full height, composing himself as he brushed his robes off. He faced his son with the same confidence that Nico held himself, and for a split second, Nico thought that he was looking at an older version of himself.

“What do you mean, my son?” asked Hades, regarding Nico with a steely gaze behind which dwelt thinly-veiled fury. “I do not have to make the choice you are forcing upon me. You have neither the power nor the authority to command me. You forget yourself, Nico di Angelo. _I am the Lord of the Dead and King of the Armies of Erebos!_ More than that, I am your _father_. _I_ should be commanding _you!_ ”

Nico whirled on his father and shouted, eyes blazing with the same anger as was in Hades’. “This is the only thing that will spare us from the coming war!” he screamed. “If only for a few more months!” Nico was trembling all over, now. “You told me that you wanted me to be an exception. You told me that you wanted me to be happy. I _am_ happy. And I want to make the best of that. But if you don’t do this, father, that happiness will not last very long.”

Nico didn’t want to tell Hades that if no action was taken, Nico would die, and everyone else would follow soon after.

“I am not commanding you, father!” begged Nico, tears streaming freely down his face. “I am asking you to do myself and the other demigods a favour. This is the only thing that will prevent the crisis that threatens us all,” Nico’s voice had taken on another quality. To Hades, Nico sounded like the scared child that had been looking for his mother when Zeus had tried to strike them down.

Hades’ anger melted away, and he sagged against the heavy doors behind him. “A few weeks is all I ask for, father…” implored Nico. “I want to try and be happy with Will before it all falls apart at the seams again.”

Hades shook his head. He could not, in good conscience deny his only son that wish. “I cannot force you to make the choice that I want you to make, father, but I can only let you know that I wish you will.” Nico sheathed the blade, and the pressure in Hades’ skull subsided.

Hades bared his teeth. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. Yet, looking into Nico’s eyes, it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. His son’s happiness or eternal scars? It wasn’t a choice at all. “What do you wish me to do?”

Nico drew a deep, shuddering breath as he felt the shard of obsidian hidden in his drakonskin cloak fracture. “Father,” he said, trembling with apprehension. “You must take this weapon, pay the price, and slay _Tartarus_.”

Hades’ eyes widened and he slumped against the door. All fear and anger melted out of the god, replaced only by a buzzing numbness at the base of his skull and incredulity at the insane words that his son had just spoken. Slay the Lord of the Pit? It was preposterous. Tartarus was infinitely more dangerous than Gaea.

“What have you done?” breathed Hades hoarsely. “This is madness…”

“What I had to, father,” said Nico simply, numbly.

It dawned on Hades that if killing Tartarus would only delay the looming crisis for a few months, then it meant that Tartarus was not the enemy. “Tell me, my son, who is the enemy that we face?”

Nico’s face twisted in disdain. It was an ancient enemy that they likely had no hope of ever defeating. “She alone in all creation has pierced the heart of the King with fear.” Those were not Nico’s words. They were his mentor’s. All the same, Hades understood them for what they were. Hades laughed long and bitter. Finally, when his shaking from the laughter had subsided, Hades found himself no longer wondering why his son, bravest and strongest of his brothers’ spawn, was begging for a few months to try and be happy.

There was very little hope for the future of the demigods of Greece and Rome, if they’d truly woken such a formidable enemy as _her_. Hades shook his head slowly from side to side in incredulity, yet, he knew his son was not lying. When all this came to pass, few would ever know the meaning of happiness again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said there would be something else here today. Change of plans! I'm going to be posting it _next_ Saturday, instead.
> 
> *cough* So, what do you think of Nico hugging Hades? Of Aphrodite guilt-tripping Will about Jason? Who can guess who the enemy is? :D. I'd like to hear your speculation and thoughts, so please! Leave a comment! <3.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. <3.


	10. A Moment of Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, maggots! (Sorry, don't hurt me. D:) There is some serious dubcon going on in the first scene. Like before, feel free to skip it, but you'll be skipping on important characterization for Eirwny Argall. I suppose I should add chastity and buttplugs to the tags, so I'm going to do that. BRB... You can go ahead and start reading. <3.

_“Dinner, for me?” said Wyn with a smirk, walking right up behind Nico, who was wearing nothing but an apron, the collar around his neck, a buttplug nestled between the cheeks of his ass, and the chastity cage around his cock. The Welshman loved seeing his boyfriend like this, and didn’t mind keeping Nico like this, so long as the son of Hades was_ his _._

_Truth be told, the dinner was not even really a surprise. Wyn just liked reinforcing the conditioning he’d forced onto Nico that making Wyn happy was the same thing as pleasure. That that was what he lived for. Wyn was reaping the benefits of that labour._

_“I love you, babe,” whispered Wyn in Nico’s ear and grinned with satisfaction at the tremor of exquisite bliss that he could see travel down Nico’s sides and over his pert bottom. Wyn traced, with fingers light as feathers, the curve of Nico’s ass and sighed._

_That was a treasure he’d plundered over and over every night and every morning for the last little while. Still, Nico was young and his ass was virginal. Tight as though it had not been plowed enough times to make it loose._

_That alone was the reason that Nico wore the buttplug at all times save for when he needed to relieve himself. Wyn wanted his prize, the symbol of his ownership ready for the taking at all times. That, and in the mornings he left his seed inside Nico, reminding the boy that he belonged to an Eirwyn Argall and no one else._

_Then at nights, Nico slept with the plug in him to keep that same seed within him. Had he been a woman, it was doubtless that the essence of his lover would have quickened by now, and he’d be with child. But he was no woman, and Eirwyn Argall would not have had it any other way._

_The Welshman’s appetites flared, and not just the one for the food from which a sweet aroma wafted as it sizzled on the pan. Wyn was hungry for something else. Something worth only of the tasting of someone that cared very deeply for it. “I love it when I come home to you like this,” said Wyn, teasingly, but not without purpose. Everything was done to reinforce compulsions. “Why don’t you show me the wonder of that cute butt of yours while you finish making dinner?”_

_Nico blushed and turned around to kiss Wyn, but instead the Welshman turned him back towards the stove and grabbed his ass. “Come on,” he teased. “None of that tender stuff. You know that’s all a reward for when you make me happy, right?” Reluctantly, Nico nodded._

_“Well… get to it, yeah?” said Wyn with a smirk, and a light smack across the supple flesh of Nico’s buttocks. “There we go…” he said with a satisfied groan when Nico started grinding his backside against Wyn’s groin. “Now make sure you don’t burn anything.”_

_The grinding intensified. Wyn couldn’t help but grab Nico’s waist and pull the boy closer, moving his own hips in tandem with Nico’s. Found himself unable to resist laying light kisses all along the side of Nico’s neck over his shoulders. Nico shivered, but continued to cook as though nothing of the sort was happening._

_A few minutes later, when everything was done, and the range had been turned off, Wyn could no longer help himself. He_ had _to take his lover. He_ had _to leave his mark yet again. It would simply not do if Nico returned to himself in the middle of dinner._

_“How about you let that meat rest…” said Wyn, grabbing the pan from Nico’s hands and setting it on the counter top. “And you wake_ my _meat from its rest?” he said, teasingly, tracing the sides of Nico’s abdomen with the tips of his nails. Nico keened in pleasure._

_The high-pitched sound sent tingles down Wyn’s spine, and straight into his cock. “That’s definitely one way to do it,” he remarked, drawing another outburst of ecstasy from Nico. Wyn could feel his powers flaring, inflaming Nico’s lust so much that every touch was almost orgasmic in its delight._

_Wyn traced the side of Nico’s face with gentle, loving fingers, and smiled as his boyfriend moaned. From the shiver of pleasure that ran down Nico’s body, Wyn knew that he was doing great work with this particular son of Hades. “Gods I love seeing you like this, babe,” he said, as Nico blubbered incoherently in response._

_Perhaps to someone that romanticized love beyond what it was worth, what was going on between Wyn and Nico was grotesque. For Wyn, though, he did not see the problem. How could there be a problem? Nico loved him. Adored him. Worshipped him with every single fibre of his being._

_How was that not good? Because Nico did not do it of his own will? Please, thought Wyn. All Wyn was doing was making Nico feel as good as he would have if Nico had chosen him to begin with. This Nico, the one writhing in Wyn’s arms just because he was being touched, this was the same thing that the son of Hades would have experienced if he had come freely. Wyn was only…_ accelerating _the process._

_Wyn’s hand travelled down the curve of Nico’s back, tracing along the ridges of backbone, before dipping in between the globes of tender flesh and plucking from it the seal that both closed off his most precious entrance, and kept it loose for the manhood that it had been made for._

_“Strip me,” said Wyn, leaning back as Nico’s hands frantically worked at the restricting clothing that bound his lover. There was nothing more that Nico wanted at that moment than to feel every inch of Wyn’s skin pressed against his. Nothing more than feeling, within him, the throbbing manhood of the Welshman that had claimed him and had_ taken _everything that was him._

\----------

The door to the massive chamber that housed the gods and their thrones swung open with such force that the boom reached Will where he was hiding, at the corner of the street that ran towards the hall of the gods, and the street that one had to take from there to the pavilion at the heart of the city.

A heartbeat later, Will could hear the sound of marble fracturing, and an annoyed grunt from Hades. He peeked around his corner, and found himself looking right into Hades’ eyes. Will had to pinch himself, because he was pretty sure that he’d seen unease in Hades’ eyes.

The Lord of the Dead sniffed indignantly before walking off at a brisk pace. Beyond Hades, Nico was still standing just within the throne room. To his side, one of the massive stone doors was cracked from top to bottom. From what Will could tell, the fracture did not run the whole way through, yet, he knew, that the only way they could have been so damaged was if they had been flung open with extreme force.

Tentatively, Will walked out of his hiding spot. The instant he stepped out into the light of the setting sun, Nico looked up. Dark eyes locked with bright blue ones.

For a moment, Will felt nothing but fear. Then Nico’s expression softened, and the curling streams of black mist that clung to the son of Hades, which Will had not noticed until that moment, dissipated into thin air.

As he was walking towards his boyfriend, Will realized that the same black mist was lingering on the stone of the doors. The greatest concentration was in the crack that ran the length of the one that was broken. He put two and two together. It had not been Hades’ might that had almost shattered the damn thing. It had been Nico.

For one dreadful moment, the realization of the magnitude of how profoundly changed Nico was from the young man that he’d come to know three years ago hit Will. He felt nauseous all over again.

The look that Nico sent him sent a chill up his spine. There was concern there, yes, but at the same time, sadness. Nico looked up at the crack in the marble, and waved his hand. As the black mist retreated, so too did the crack. At that moment, Will felt truly small in the presence of awe-inspiring power.

“I kept your secret for three years,” said Nico with a sad smile, still looking up at the marble door, refusing to look Will in the eyes. “I would appreciate it if you could keep the mine as well,” he continued.

Will nodded, numbly. He didn’t know what to think, or what to say. Hades had come out the worse of a private conversation, held quite literally behind closed doors, was a terrifying thought. Will couldn’t wrap his head around what Nico could have possibly told Hades that would’ve left the _god_ perturbed.

If Hades was disturbed, Will wondered if he should be running around, screaming, panicking about the end of the world. Of all the gods, Hades had seemed the most unflappable, if not the most sincere in all he did. To think that he was rather unsettled was in itself an unsettling thing.

Will walked up to Nico and just looked at his boyfriend for a while. They stood there in mutual silence. Neither daring to speak to the other. Yet, the silence was fragile. _Thump_. _Thump_. Will could hear his heart hammer against his chest. _Thump_.

Afraid and uncertain, Will walked up to Nico, placed his hands to either side of his boyfriend’s head, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to the son of Hades’ forehead. Much to his surprise, Nico didn’t flinch away. If anything, Nico seemed to melt under his touch. The confident, world-weary set of Nico’s shoulders drained away, and he slumped forward against Will.

It was Will who flinched at what happened next. Nico ran his fingers lightly across the still-fading lines of red that Will had traced onto his arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, tears brimming in his eyes. Nico then threw his arms around Will.

They stood there like that for gods know how long. Will at first tried to console Nico, but as his own arms wrapped around the stronger, but still-fragile body of the boy whom his heart had fallen for, Will couldn’t help but cry too.

Words needed not be spoken between them. All the words they’d needed to say had already been said. Well, for the time being, at least. Will pressed another tender, gentle kiss to the side of Nico’s face as they both shook with the pain of three years of loss.

When they were done, they pulled apart and regarded each other as though nothing had happened. “Party?” said Will, hopefully. Nico nodded, but made no move to stand closer to Will. The son of Apollo nodded his understanding. Soon enough, they were walking down the marble street. Celebration awaited them. “What was that about?”

Nico was confused for a moment, then he realized what Will was asking about. “I told you,” he said, almost annoyed. “I can’t tell you yet, Will.” Nico felt a tug of guilt in his chest. He _really_ didn’t want to keep things from Will, but if his father had been so terrified of the news he brought, Nico was pretty sure that Will would book it for the hills, the couple kilometres of water between the Theopolis and the shores of Camp Half-Blood be damned.

Nico looked over at Will, trying to catch those blue eyes that glittered so prettily in the sunlight. Nico blinked. Since when had romanticizing eyes been his thing? He shrugged. Will turned to face him, expression unreadable. Nico noticed that they had stopped walking. “I’ll tell you when the right time comes, alright?” he said. “I need you to trust me, Will.”

Right. Left. Right. They started walking again. At the same brisk pace as before. It was almost as though they were trying to run away from their problems. From the pain that three years had left in them. After a long while of silence, Will finally spoke up again. “I do,” he sighed in admittance.

Nico looked at Will, waiting for the ‘but.’ It came, as expected. “You have to forgive me if I don’t quite trust you not to use your underworld-ly powers just yet,” said the healer, moving to elbow Nico in the ribs before stopping just short of actually doing it.

Will jumped when he felt Nico’s hand on his arm. “Just a little is fine, Will,” said Nico with a smile, pulling his boyfriend’s elbow to his side. “See?” he said. “Not as touch-averse as before,” he continued with a smirk.

“Aphrodite was right,” said Nico after another lengthy silence. “But my father was right, too,” he admitted. “I don’t like touching,” he said. Now Will was confused. What was Nico going on about? “But maybe you can be an exception?” The uncertainty and vulnerability in Nico’s voice made it difficult for Will to resist throwing an affectionate arm around him, so he did just that.

The arm was rather roughly shoved off. “Okay,” said Nico. “ _That_ is a bit too much,” he finished, with a laugh.

Will put on a look of mock-offense. “Well,” he said, indignantly stomping his foot and putting on a pout that made Nico smile. The sight of the son of Hades’ lips turning up made Will’s heart skip a beat in his chest. “How am _I_ supposed to know what’s too much?” he said. “Educate me, oh great Ghost King!” he teased.

Nico laughed, the sound jubilant and almost startling. Nico had decided to let go all thoughts of impending doom. At least for the moment. He’d meant it when he told his father that he wanted to at least try to be happy with Will for what little time they had left before war broke out once more.

“Here,” said Nico, giving Will a playful shove that actually sent the healer staggering a good three feet away from him. At first Nico was mortified, but then Will started laughing, too. “ _That—_ ” he said, “—isn’t too much!”

Will tried, playfully, to shove Nico too, but the son of Hades was too fast for him, even with the warrior training he’d taken up with Jason. “Hey!” said Will. “That’s not fair!” he protested, staggering forward as Nico took a step back to avoid him. “Let me shove you, too!” he said, chasing Nico around for a moment.

“H-hold on!” panted Will, leaning on his knees. It took a good half-minute for Will to catch his breath. Okay, maybe he wasn’t _actually_ as good and rested as he felt. “Uh…” he said, straightening, but still somewhat winded. “I was wondering… Can we talk?”

\----------

_“Wyn…” Nico could feel his heart shattering in his chest. Looking upon the cardigan-clad visage of his boyfriend, he could tell that the same was happening to the Welshman. Nico was sitting, properly clothed for the first time in weeks, on the couch in the living room, holding the leather collar in his hands._

_The silver skull pendant that was on the d-ring tinkled. Wyn looked utterly devastated. The scene was a mess. It was a true, honest mess. There were splatters of blood all over the place. A lot of it was Nico’s, even though he didn’t look hurt at all._

_“Gods…” whispered Wyn, sitting down and burying his face in his hands at the carnage that was the living room of his apartment. One of the couch-cushions was torn apart, the stuffing strewn all over the damn place. Wyn sniffed the air and instantly bared his teeth. “Cait Sidhe…”_

_Wyn jumped to his feet and walked over to where the cushion had fallen. Etched, no, scratched into the floor were three vertical lines. He knew well enough that it did not mean that three of the Cats had come for his Nico. It meant that they had spent their third transformations to try and obtain him._

_“Wyn,” said Nico once more. He looked at Wyn, pained expression in his eyes as he tore away the silver skull from the collar. “I’m so sorry…” he said, tears streaming down the side of his face._

_Against his better judgement, the Welshman feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?” he asked. “This looks like a cat did it,” he said, pointing out the obvious mortal answer. Wyn didn’t know how much of his true nature had been revealed to Nico, but he didn’t want to risk his chances. He wanted to put Nico under his power again as soon as possible._

_“It’s alright,” said Wyn, soothingly. He plopped down on the couch beside Nico and threw his arm around the son of Hades, the same way that Nico had liked it when they had first started actually going out._

_Wyn reached for Nico’s cheek with the middle knuckle of his index finger, but the other demigod flinched away from the potential touch. “Nico…” said Wyn, confused. He wasn’t confused that Nico was pulling away from him. He was confused that Nico wasn’t being affected by his powers. By now Nico should’ve been a mewling mess, begging for Wyn’s cock up his ass._

_The Welsh demigod took another look at his boyfriend. No, Nico_ was _being affected by his powers, but something was giving the boy strength to resist. Wyn could see the tightness of Nico’s jaw. The way he bit into his lower lip. The way that he shifted his legs on the couch as though to hide the throbbing erection that Wyn could tell he had. “Why are you shutting away from me, Nico?” asked Wyn, worried and concerned. He didn’t want to lose Nico. Not now. Not ever._

_There was a long moment of silence, and Wyn’s discomfort mounted as the seconds ticked by. He was afraid that Nico would go and say that he’d found out what Wyn had been doing to him. The way that Wyn had stripped away Nico’s identity little by little until nothing had been left but a young man that wanted nothing more than to please his boyfriend and owner._

_Instead, Nico said, “It’s not you.” Wyn’s breath hitched in his throat. Then he noticed that some blood was smeared on the sparkling skull pin in Nico’s hand. Wyn was barely able to contain the hiss of anger that wanted to escape through his lips. They had had a deal. He got to keep Nico, and the god would leave him to do what he wanted to do._

_That deal had just been broken. “It’s me,” said Nico, his voice small and vulnerable, breaking despite the fact that he’d only spoken two syllables. “It’s me…” he said again, sounding so utterly forlorn and heartbroken that Wyn’s anger slipped away from him and he wanted nothing but to wrap his arms tighter around Nico. The son of Hades wouldn’t allow it._

_Nico scooted over to the side of the couch furthest away from Wyn and clutched his knees to his chest. There were tears falling freely from Nico’s eyes now. Wyn could tell that the boy’s heart was shattering all over again. At the same time, Wyn knew now that he was powerless to stop it._

_“It’s me…” Nico confessed again, as though saying the words enough times would make it not so. “I’m in love with someone else,” he said, through shuddering sobs and sucked-in breaths. “I’m in love with someone else…” he said a second time, voice breaking even more than the first._

_Anger surged in Wyn’s veins and he intensified the power of the aura that was flowing from him. A small whine escaped Nico’s lips, and Wyn automatically assumed that he was winning, that he had already broken through whatever mental defense the traitor god had helped him mount._

_Wyn crawled over to Nico, a rather unrefreshing departure from what was normally the case, but one that Wyn was glad to let pass for the moment, at least. He could see that Nico was trembling from the effort of not giving in to the temptation, even as Wyn noticed one of Nico’s hands dip between his thighs._

_“What do you say…” said Wyn in the most sultry voice he could muster, laying his most powerful seduction on his words. “What do you say you and I have a little fun, yeah?” Nico shivered where he sat._

_However, much to Wyn’s surprise, the son of Hades bolted off the couch and stared at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I love someone else. I can’t do this anymore.” Wyn’s heart grew leaden in his chest. He didn’t want Nico to go, but he was helpless. He’d always used his powers to make his lovers stay. He didn’t know what to do when they weren’t working._

_“I have to go,” said Nico, eyes red from crying. The collar fell from his hands, and the d-ring hit the floor with a clink. The silver pendant was still in Nico’s fist. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have,” breathed the son of Hades before darting out the door and into the night._

_Stunned and numb, Wyn walked over to where the collar had fallen. Then he realized the chastity cage was also on the floor. “Nico,” he whispered, caressing the worn leather and bringing it to his nose to remind himself of what his dearest treasure smelt like. “Nico…” he breathed again, before finally falling to the floor and weeping._

_All the effort of three months, and still, one visit was all it took to tear away the one thing that Wyn had loved most. He glared at the three vertical scores on his floor. Then he stalked off into his room and with a piece of chalk drew the outline of a door on the wall as he had countless times before. Once within his sanctum, he began to formulate the spell that would drag the god that betrayed him screaming to his home._

\----------

Will pointed at a small alleyway in the corner, shrouded from the rest of the city by long shadows cast by the setting sun. Nico hesitated for a moment. Will was not surprised. He’d not actually expected Nico to want to talk to begin with. Nevertheless, he breathed a sigh of relief when Nico nodded.

They walked together to the alleyway, and in the cover of darkness, Will leaned against the wall opposite Nico. Nico did the same. “If we’re going to do this…” said Will, looking earnestly in Nico’s dark eyes. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to talk. I don’t think we’ve been entirely honest with each other…”

Perhaps Will hadn’t meant it that way, but that was the way that Nico took it. He bristled at the thinly-veiled accusation. He frowned, eyebrows knotting. “If you think this is going to make me talk about what I already told you you’re not ready for yet, then you’ve got another thing coming, Solace.” At first Will was somewhat offended, but then he realized the error of his phrasing. Instead he rolled his eyes. Nico was relieved.

Evidently the secret of his three years away was not the object of this discussion. Then, a thought crossed Nico’s mind. What if Will was just playing him? Nico pondered that thought for a moment. He really thought on it. Then he had to suppress a chuckle. There was no possible way that _his_ Will Solace was _that_ sophisticated.

“No,” said the healer. “I already told you that I trust you, Nico.” Will’s eyes were sparkling from the little light that they caught from the sun. Nico couldn’t help but be drawn into their soft blue. There was just something so calming about them. Nico shook his head, surprised that he’d drifted off again.

“I’ll trust you on this,” said Will. “Because I want you to trust me, too.” Nico forced himself to look into Will’s eyes again. He found only sincerity there. No duplicity. Nico smiled. Will returned the smile, but there was a bitterness about it.

“It’s about me…” admitted Will. “What Aphrodite said was true. It took losing you for three years for me to realize just how much you’d come to mean to me over the few days we’d actually known each other… I don’t know why the feelings were so strong, but… they never faded. They haven’t faded. Not a bit.”

Nico smiled. He knew that Will knew that he felt the same way. “I know,” he said. Then Nico raked his fingers through his hair. “But we’re going to try, right?” he asked. For a moment, he was genuinely scared that Will might say that no, they weren’t. Not anymore.

Then, Nico realized he was being stupid. He wanted this a lot. Even if Will had said that, he would have still attempted to salvage things. However, Nico should have known better. From the look in Will’s eyes, he knew that Will wanted this as much as he did. Nico needed to stop doubting himself, and whether or not he deserved Will’s affection.

“We’re going to try,” repeated Will with a terse smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the whole nuclear explosion thing…”

Nico frowned. Between Aphrodite’s urging to hug his father, and the things he’d had to say to Hades directly afterwards, the true nature of Will’s powers and the consequences of their overuse had completely and utterly slipped Nico’s mind. “Now,” said the son of Hades with a sheepish look. ”I know this is going to be a bit hard to believe…”

Nico picked his words carefully, and he was even more careful to avoid Will’s eyes. “But…” he said, hesitantly. “I honestly forgot all about it until you reminded me just now…” Will laughed. It wasn’t a pretty laugh by any stretch of the imagination, but it was Will’s. Because of that it was almost like music to Nico’s ears. The butterflies were back.

The sound was so carefree and light that it made Nico’s knees feel a little bit weak. Thankfully he was leaning against a wall for support. Needless to say, he followed suit and started laughing not too long after.

“Nico di Angelo,” said Will sincerely, Nico’s name rolling off his tongue with such reverence that Nico felt like a divinity. “Today, someone that I was beginning to fear I would never see again came back to me.” Will was blushing. So was Nico. “I can believe it.”

Nico laughed again. When Will put it that way, forgetting about something that had been said only so few minutes ago was entirely reasonable. “But,” said Will, voice suddenly becoming serious. “I didn’t tell you because, well… I didn’t want to make you worry.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Poseidon had been right. Will was such a hypocrite. Nico wondered if he would have the authority to now tell Will to not use his powers. After all, Will liked using ‘Doctor’s orders’ on him. Nico frowned inwardly. ‘Boyfriend’s orders’ just didnt’ have the same ring to it.

“We’re supposed to be happy!” said Will, having the grace to look abashed. “I knew you were tired. Hell, you were _fading_ when you came back…” It was Nico’s turn to look sheepish. “But you were never really good with the not over-using your powers thing.”

Nico made a show of mock-offense, but he grinned in the end. “And,” he said, teasingly. “It seems, neither are you, Will Solace.”

“I know,” said Will, colour tingeing his cheeks. “But I did what I thought I had to do.” Will looked back at Nico, a steely determination in his eyes, and a fierce protectiveness behind that. Nico found it endearing, but ultimately useless. There was nothing that Will could protect him from that he needed protection from. The things that he _did_ need to be protected from were things beyond anyone else’s capacity but his own.

For the first time since coming back, it really hit Nico how much he’d missed of his friends’ lives when Will recounted the story of when he had practically thrown himself at a group of cyclopes when Lou Ellen had been in danger on that one quest they had before Will found the pin. Will told Nico that he’d come out of it banged up and somewhat badly hurt. Nico was pretty sure that Will was just watering down the story ‘for his sake.’ What _was_ important, though was that Will had gotten out of it alright. Mostly. Will still had an ache in his hip every now and again.

“I understand that,” said Nico, surprised at his own admission. “I do stupid things when the people I lov—” there it was. That four-letter word that Nico di Angelo was so afraid of. He stopped. Then chose another phrase. “—when my friends are hurt, too.”

Will made a face. He’d heard the beginnings of that four-letter word as well. His heart had leapt up into his throat. Thankfully, Nico had not said it. Will was every bit as terrified of it as Nico was, even though he wanted Nico to love him very dearly.

“I know!” said Will. Then, he started laughing hysterically. “I was at the receiving end of that.” Nico was puzzled for a moment, then he remembered, cheeks colouring in embarrassment as he recalled how he’d lost control back then. “You almost ghost-ified me! And that was after I told you not to use your underworld-ly magic anymore.”

Nico rolled his eyes. Will was such a hypocrite. Almost as soon as the mirth had come, though, a profound sadness fell over Will’s face. “I shouldn’t have hurt Jason,” he said. Nico thought that Will was thinking of the scratch he’d imparted on Jason’s face.

“No,” said Nico consolingly. “I understand now. I shouldn’t have lost control,” he admitted. “But it looks like I’m going to have to watch _you_ so _you_ don’t over-use _your_ light-y…” Nico paused. “It just doesn’t have the same ring as underworld-ly…”

Nico glared at Will’s expression of scarcely-contained mirth. “That’s not fair!” protested the son of Hades, chuckling. “Whatever,” he said, finally, when he ran out of things to try in place of light-ly. “No more using your powers.” Nico racked his brain for that thing that Will had called him earlier. Oh. Yeah. “Ghost king’s orders.”

“Ooh,” said Will, teasingly. “Ghost king…” Will grinned. “I like that.” Nico glared at Will. “What? If you get to disregard my doctor’s orders, I get to disregard your ghost king’s orders. Fair’s fair, right?” Nico scowled. He’d been backed into a corner.

“Fine,” he grumbled begrudgingly. “I won’t overuse my underworld-ly magic if you don’t.”

Will smiled, but Nico continued glaring at him. “What?” he asked. “I am _not_ going to swear on the Styx, Nico,” he said, firmly, but not without humour. Nico relented.

For a moment, all was good between them. There was silence, save for the cries of the seagulls, the breeze blowing through the city, and the soft sound of the waves crashing against the marble of the Theopolis. It was Will that first broke the sacred silence. “Nico, there’s something else I have to tell you…”

Will’s voice was small, and scared. It was almost as though he was fearful of what was to come. It was almost as though he didn’t even want to know what could happen if he said the thing that he wanted to say. Regardless, he thought himself duty-bound to confess of this to his new boyfriend.

“I slept with Jason,” he admitted with a sigh. Even more, with a heavy heart, Will let the next few words slip from his lips. “Jason fell in love with me.” Will raised his eyes. He looked deeply into Nico’s dark eyes to await his judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go. :3. A new chapter!
> 
> How did you like this one? *jumps up and down* Did you enjoy the little taste of fluff that I gave you? How did you react when Nico told Will that he could maybe be an exception to the "no-touching" rule? Weren't they so cute?! *coughs* Anyway. What do you think of Wyn, after this chapter? We're going to see a lot more of _his_ story in the next chapter. You might get insight on why he is the way he is.
> 
> *raptor screeches* Oh man the last paragraph of next chapter is going to _hurt_. *cackles*
> 
> *high-pitched squeaky voice* Hey! Hey listen! Do you have any questions you'd like to ask the characters in the Dawn-verse? Go ahead and send me an ask at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask) make sure to include the name of the character the question is for! I'll answer as that character. >:]


	11. The Watcher and the Weaver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Surprise! There's an update today!
> 
> HOWEVER. Before you go reading this, I highly suggest reading [_A Red Christmasday_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3104600), which is a companion piece for _At the Break of Dawn._ It describes the events of the first Christmas that Nico and Will spend apart. It takes place in between the last two chapters of [_Uncertain as the Dawn_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2620928). It really helps you see the state-of-mind of Will.
> 
> Have you gone and read it already? Alright! Welcome back. <3\. Enjoy this chapter.

_“Silvertongue”_

The voice was like a whisper on the wind. It startled Annabeth. She nearly fell out of her seat at her table with Percy. “Did you hear that?” she asked, shoulders and body tense. There was something vaguely familiar about the voice, but it had been too soft and transient for her to remember.

“Hear what?” Percy asked after a moment. He’d been staring off into the distance as he was wont to do these days, in the years after Nico had vanished. He still blamed himself for what had happened, despite Annabeth’s conviction that it was _her_ fault.

“Someone said ‘Silvertongue,’ Percy.” Annabeth was absolutely spooked. The last person that had used that on her had been Periboia, and at the time, she’d been dangling from the hands of a giant, captured, after some cruel twist of fate had rendered their mist-made glamours useless against the giants.

The voice came again, but this time, Annabeth could not hear it. It was only Percy that could. _“Earthshaker’s Son.”_ Percy shivered. There was something about that voice that just made him feel unsettled. It wasn’t necessarily malicious, but it was off-putting. Part of it was the fact that the voice was so soft, too.

“Was it a woman?” Percy suddenly asked, rising from his seat, eyes transfixed on something behind Annabeth. The daughter of Athena frowned then turned, and saw the same thing that Percy did. A woman beautiful beyond compare dressed in resplendent silk robes and glittering with golden ornaments all over her body.

“Yes,” Annabeth breathed. “What did she say to you?” she ventured the question, not knowing what manner of terrifying thing Percy could say. Percy shook his head. Frankly, the implications of what he’d just been called hadn’t yet sunk in.

“Earthshaker’s son,” he replied. Annabeth gasped.

“Percy,” Annabeth said, shaking her boyfriend’s arm. Percy was too busy looking at the woman in the distance, who was beautiful beyond description. He wasn’t trying to ogle her. He was trying to discern what her true form was. Such beauty was probably just a glamour. The petty goddesses, especially Aphrodite, would not have permitted such a thing to exist.

“Percy,” Annabeth said again, stomping on Percy’s foot. He yelled in pain and hopped up and down on one leg. He scowled at Annabeth. “Would you listen!” she said. “Poseidon _Ennosigaios_ , Poseidon the Earth-shaker. That is an _old_ , _old_ name for your father.”

Percy wasn’t dumb. He’d gathered that Earth-shaker was an epithet for his father. What he’d not understood was the implication. Now he was beginning to. “Percy,” Annabeth said, tugging at his sleeve. She pointed at Poseidon. “Do you think that such an old, powerful name like that can be said without drawing the attention of the god involved?”

“No,” said Percy. Annabeth looked surprised that he’d answered correctly. Percy shrugged. “Remember when Iapetus told us not to speak Akhlys’ name in Tartarus?” Annabeth shivered with the memory. She’d tried her best to forget. “He was afraid of it.”

Percy reached down and took hold of Annabeth’s hand, smiling at her before looking back in the direction that he’d seen the woman previously. “She’s gone,” he said, unsurprised. Annabeth looked as well. Indeed, the stranger was gone. Perhaps they’d just been paranoid. Then Annabeth felt a hand graze her cheek when there wasn’t anyone nearby.

The surprise on her face was mirrored moments later by Percy, who swatted at his shoulder. They both looked in the direction that the touches had been pointing towards. They saw an ethereal golden cloth fluttering in the breeze, beckoning them closer.

“Should we?” asked Annabeth. She was certain it was a trap, but Theopolis was protected by all the gods present. No harm could possibly come to them, and no evil could possibly bypass its protections this easily. There was one exception: since the city’s borders were still open, it was entirely possible for someone powerful enough to bypass its defenses.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right, wise girl?” said Percy with a smirk. The life had returned to his face. It had been a _very_ long time since they’d had an actual proper adventure, and, as much as Annabeth had wanted to settle down and have a normal life, she had to admit that she missed the fast-paced life of a demigod hero as well.

“I’m starting to think it wasn’t a very _wise_ thing to ask you, seaweed brain,” Annabeth teased, nudging Percy in the ribs. “Of course we should.”

“Good,” said Percy. “Because I was going to leave you behind if you didn’t want to.” Annabeth put on a mock-scandalized, mock-offended look and took off after Percy when he bolted into a run across the marble square. The gods were busy talking among themselves. Hades had joined them. They did not notice Percy and Annabeth giving chase to something unseen.

It took them a little while to get to the thing, but the piece of glittering, ethereal gold fabric always fluttered in the air at the corner of their vision, egging them on toward gods know what. “Trap?” asked Percy, looking at Annabeth.

Annabeth laughed and clocked him playfully on the back of the head. “What do you think, seaweed brain?” she asked, as they ran toward the cloth, which darted down another corner. “Of course it’s a trap!” she said. “Everyone we know is at the square. The Stoll brothers are still recovering. It’s not a prank, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Percy shrugged. They turned the corner. “Hey, nothing wrong with asking, right?” he said. Annabeth nodded. Before long, they were hopelessly lost. Annabeth had to take a moment to get her bearings.

“We’re close,” Annabeth said, suddenly. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt as though they were already close to the end of their little adventure, but she did. She looked around. These buildings were the outskirts of one of the planned economic districts of Theopolis. She spotted the cloth. Percy darted after it.

The two demigods emerged into a small deserted square in the heart of the district. Annabeth could see three or four buildings that had been set up for textiles, mostly. There was furniture and signs all over the shop-fronts. Annabeth felt a leaden weight drop into the pit of her stomach.

“You’ve come,” said a voice, similar to the one earlier, but no longer as soft or as transient as the first. Annabeth whirled around and saw the beautiful woman again. What she’d thought was golden jewelry was actually fine-spun gossamer threads of golden cloth. “Fools.”

“Who are you?” demanded Annabeth, stepping up to the woman. She felt an odd familiarity about her. Something that tickled all the wrong parts of her, all the primal portions of her personality, ingrained in her by her heritage. “Why are you here? How are you here?” The woman laughed, the sound musical.

“Oh, my dear,” said the stranger, throwing her arms wide so that the silky golden threads draped about her fell in an odd pattern. “So rude of you to have forgotten me so easily,” she said with a bare-toothed grin. Despite her beauty, the smile looked savage.

Annabeth looked at the woman for a moment, then recoiled as though she’d been hit in the gut. The strands. No wonder they looked so familiar, yet so strange. Annabeth grabbed Percy’s arm and dragged her boyfriend back. “ _Spider,_ ” she hissed, an old pain in her ankle flaring as the memories flooded back.

“Good,” said the woman with a smile. Percy was somewhat confused. “At least you remember dear old Arachne.” Then Percy understood. He had been baffled by how monstrous the beautiful woman’s smile had been without actually being monstrous. Now he knew why. “Although, I must say I look far better than before.”

It was true. Percy begrudgingly admitted that about the old spider that had been the cause of their fall into Tartarus. There were pearls threaded into the inky black hair of the old spider. They glowed with what almost looked like pale starlight.

“You are powerless here,” snarled Annabeth.

Arachne bared her teeth. “Perhaps,” she admitted, with a shrug. “Not powerless. Never powerless. Not anymore, Silvertongue,” she said. “But greatly weakened. For now. The city _will_ fall to our armies. Even Olympus cannot stand against us.”

Annabeth made the motion for dispelling evil. Arachne laughed. “It will take much more than that to get rid of me, girl,” she taunted. “Nor can you trick me with your diabolical schemes.” Arachne thrust out her hands in Annabeth’s direction and from the depths of the spider’s robes, fabric like the golden cloth they’d followed to the square shot out and bound Annabeth by her wrists.

Percy charged at Arachne, but met the same fate. Then they were bound by their ankles. “Pity,” said Arachne. “I cannot feast on you,” she continued. “Not only would it ruin the dress,” Arachne made a great sweeping motion as she brushed glittering dust off of her robes. “But I came only to deliver a message.”

“How are you this powerful?” demanded Annabeth. “How are you not a monster anymore?”

“Maybe she and your mom made up?” proffered Percy.

Both Annabeth and Arachne scoffed at him. “Athena is a vindictive goddess, wise as she might be,” said Arachne, spitting out the word ‘wise’ as though it were totally unpalatable. “She would never return me to my old body,” said Arachne. “Much less, a form like this, immensely more powerful, more skilled, and more beautiful than old mortal me.”

“Bah, drivel,” said Arachne, when she was done, waving dismissively. “I have come to deliver a message.” The cloth binding Annabeth crawled further up her arms. She squirmed in discomfort and tried to wriggle out of her bondage, but quickly found that, like Arachne’s spider-silk, this cloth was nigh on unbreakable.

“You, deliver a message?” spat Annabeth. Percy looked at her with concern. He knew well enough to trust his girlfriend, but he was pretty sure that Arachne had already made it abundantly clear that she could no longer be tricked by Annabeth’s quick wits. “I never took you for a messenger, Arachne.”

The laugh that followed was bone-chilling. “No, I am not. But I am this once. Herald for my Mistress,” said the old spider with a grin so sinister it made Percy’s blood run cold in his veins. “Perhaps I might have become a servant, but with this power, this beauty, it is worth it.”

Annabeth spat on the ground between Arachne’s feet. “Sinking to insult when your wits fail you, Silvertongue?” asked the old spider with another laugh. “There is no escape from this for you. Not anymore. You demigods have angered someone infinitely more powerful than all of you combined.”

Annabeth opened her mouth to speak but another bolt of golden cloth appeared from the depths of Arachne’s robes and wrapped around her head, effectively gagging her. “ _Silence_ ,” hissed the old spider. “I do not have much time to deliver this message, and I want to see you suffer it.”

Percy’s eyes went wide and he opened _his_ mouth to scream something at Arachne, but he got gagged in the same way as Annabeth before he could do anything. “Pathetic,” said the old spider. “And to think that I wasted all my time hating creatures fragile as you.” Arachne clucked her tongue.

“Remember this, _Ennosigaides_ , Silvertongue, the Mistress comes,” Arachne said with a smile, and a sadistic glint in her eye. “Even Zeus fears her. You may have defeated Gaea, but the Earth Mother is infinitesimal in comparison to the Mistress.”

“The Mistress comes for the self-styled king, and for the Revenant in Limbo.” Arachne grinned. “And she comes to give me you, Silvertongue. No one fools the Mistress and lives to tell of it.” Percy’s blood ran cold. He looked over at Annabeth and saw the same look on her face: Terror. “As for you, _Ennosigaides_ , ripping away from you your eternity together will be enough vengeance for the Mistress.”

“Enjoy the days remaining, Silvertongue!” said Arachne as Annabeth struggled in her bonds. “Enjoy them because they will be your last. The sun is setting on the age of the gods.” Another laugh. Sinister as the last.

“Oblivion comes for you, Annabeth Chase.”

Fast as they had come, the bolts of fabric that bound Annabeth and Percy melted into thin air and glittering golden motes. They looked at each other briefly before rushing at Arachne, but before they even got close, she had vanished into shimmering air.

“ _Good Night, demigods._ ”

\----------

Whatever cruel reprisal Will Solace had been expecting from Nico di Angelo did not come. Instead, peals of laughter bubbled forth, after a few moments of Nico struggling to keep a straight face. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, in between uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Will looked at Nico with disbelief for a moment, then he realized that Nico had not been around for the past three years. Now that Will thought about it, Jason Grace three years ago, would have been the last person he expected to fall for a guy, especially someone like him.

“No,” said Will, a hint of sadness and guilt creeping into his voice. Will sighed. “He really did fall in love with me,” he said. “He told me while you were asleep earlier today.” The mirth on Nico’s face slipped, but the expression that followed was unreadable.

“Oh,” said Nico, the corners of his mouth drooping. “I see,” he said, struggling to find the words to express what was on his mind. “Did you?” he asked, looking Will in the eyes with a demand for the truth. “Did you fall in  love with him, too?”

Will returned Nico’s gaze, but with pleading in his eyes. “Maybe a small part of me did,” he said, wincing at the hurt that crossed Nico’s face. “But no, I never once thought of being with him instead of you.” Will forced a small smile on his own face. “You know, Nico, he also told me he fell in love with you, too.”

Those words took Nico by surprise. He was slack-jawed for a moment. Then, a look of amusement appeared on Nico’s face. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right? He fell in love with me, _too_?” Falling in love with more than one person at a time was such a foreign, alien concept to Nico, who was still seeped in the values of his time.

“He did,” said Will, raising an eyebrow at the expression on Nico’s face. “Do you have a problem with the fact he’s in love with more than one person?”

It took a while for Nico to answer, but when he did, what he said brought a smile to Will’s face. “No,” he said. “I suppose it’s just like a guy loving another guy…” Nico shook his head. “No, I have a problem with the fact that this is _Jason Grace_ we’re talking about.”

Will chuckled. “Believe me, Nico, I was surprised the first time, too…” Will and Nico shared a meaningful look. The first time. It had happened more than once. Yet, Nico somehow felt okay with it. He could feel that Jason had not meant any of it in malice. He _knew_ Jason would never do anything to hurt him out of malice.

“What happened?” Nico asked, genuinely curious. The pallor that crept into Will’s face at the question did nothing to sate his curiosity. Will’s blanching merely piqued Nico’s interest.

Will gulped, audibly. “I was…” Truth be told, Will didn’t know what to say about it. He’d never talked about those first nights with anyone. He’d never even talked to _Jason_ about it. “I was… In a very dark place…” Will couldn’t bring himself to confess about his self-harm. “I was hurting a lot…” Will grimaced at himself. It was not a lie. It was the truth, but only part of the truth.

“I was drunk,” he admitted. “I convinced the Stoll brothers to get me some alcohol because I wanted to drown my sorrows…” There were tears sparkling in Nico’s eyes. “Jason found me like that, and I came on to him…”

Will was shaking now. Nico could tell that the son of Apollo was crying. He could almost feel the fear and apprehension radiating from Will because of this confession. “He…” Will shivered. “Jason wanted to help… And I wanted to forget… I… begged him to make me forget.”

Nico wanted to reach across the distance that separated them, to lay his hand on Will’s shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright, but something held him back, something told him that it would not help. “I’m so sorry,” said Will.

“For what?” asked Nico, confused.

“For sleeping with someone else…” lamented Will. “I wanted to save myself for you, but I couldn’t help it…” Will’s body was wracked with sobs for a good minute before anything else was said. “I was weak,” he said. “I was so very weak.”

There it was. That was when Nico knew that his touch, his affection would help. He crossed the distance in one step and brushed the second knuckle of his index finger against the side of Will’s cheek. It came away wet. “No, Will,” Nico breathed. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“Yeah,” said Will bitterly. “Right.”

Nico shook his head, then looked deeply into Will’s eyes. “If it helps any, then that makes me just as weak as you are.” Nico took a deep breath. “I slept with someone else, too,” he admitted. It was so strange, admitting to his relationship with Wyn after so long.

“For some time, I had a boyfriend,” said Nico, the words heavy on his tongue. “It was five months after I left. I was in Cardiff… I met this guy, and he was sweet, and one thing led to another…” Nico closed his eyes and sighed. “We were together for three months.”

\----------

_London, England. It was a city that Eirwyn Argall had avoided like the plague for the last ten years. He’d been fifteen when he’d run away from the place. He was returning now on the tail-end of a quest he’d set himself for the last three of those ten._

_There was one last ingredient he needed for this spell. A strange man had come to his doorstep one day, after months and months of failed trials, trying to come up with a spell that would drag the traitor god kicking and screaming into his circle of binding._

_The man had offered no name, claimed he’d not had one to give, but instead gave Wyn a roll of parchment that detailed a spell that would work on even the most powerful deities. The nameless man had demonstrated his powers, leaving Wyn awed._

_Wyn was confident that the spell would work. There was no reason it wouldn’t. He had been stupid to not see it. This combination of ingredients and rituals and words. The nameless man had claimed that it was impossible to come upon by accident because of ancient magicks that protected it, but Wyn doubted that._

_Regardless, that was the object of his visit to London. It was timely, too. He’d been waiting for this day for a month. Spells to kill other people from vast distances away were easy enough to make, so long as you possessed something belonging to that person._

_Eirwyn Argall was attending the burial of his step-father. The very same one that had driven him from his own home at the tender age of fifteen. Wyn_ hated _the man with the same viciousness as he loved Nico di Angelo. Only the fact that he’d been expressly forbidden by his eldritch master to harm a single strand of hair on the man’s head, that he’d not done anything._

_Now that that same master had betrayed him, all bets were off. He had made his step-father’s death painful and drawn-out, like the days he spent on the streets after running away from home._

_Wyn was returning to collect a debt incurred so many years ago. He would return and he would take what he wanted, whether or not she was willing to give it to him or not. Wyn was fairly certain that his mother wouldn’t be able to help any of it at all._

_Wyn bode his time, until everyone else but his mother had left. The group that had come to pay their final respects to his step-father was small. Scraggly, even. It gave Wyn a rush of sadistic pleasure to know that his step-father, as much as he tried to put on the facade of a good and godly man, was lonely and friendless in his final days. Even his mother was the same. There was no one there to support her, hold her aging hand, as she trembled over the newly-sealed grave._

_“Mother,” said Wyn, walking up to the frail woman that had once been so strong. He’d not expected her to change so much over the last ten years. She’d been forty when he left her. Now she looked like she was almost eighty. “It has been a long time,” he said._

_“Eirwyn,” she whispered, shock painted clear on her face. “Eirwyn O’Cathasaigh.” The woman raised a trembling hand to her son’s face. Wyn swatted it away. She made no sound, did not cry out. She merely looked at her hand as it hung limply from her wrist._

_“Don’t ever call me that name again,” Wyn snarled. He’d broken his mother’s hand, but that was beyond the point. “Some distant ancestor of yours might have been from the land of the Celts, but the blood of Wales runs in my blood, and you know it,_ mother. _” Wyn spat the last word as though it were poison._

_“I know only that my prodigal son has returned to me,” she said, reaching out with her other hand. She pulled it back when Wyn raised his, ready to retaliate. “My dear Wyn,” she whispered. “Why don’t you come back to me. God loves you.”_

_Wyn’s eyes flitted down to the golden chain that hung around his mother’s neck, and the crucifix that dangled in the middle as a pendant. “Your God is not real” he growled. “And even if he was—” which Eirwyn knew he was “—he is not the loving creature you think he is.”_

_“No, no, no,” wailed Wyn’s mother. “You don’t understand. Ask forgiveness now, Wyn. I want to be with you in heaven. Just… Turn away from that lifestyle of yours. I know you’re a good Christian in your heart. Get a wife. Ask for forgiveness. He’ll still forgive you.”_

_Wyn’s blood ran cold in his veins. Ten years and his mother had not changed one bit. Mockingly, Wyn said, “Yeah, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves everyone, unless they’re gay, lesbian, or anything that doesn’t involve sticking a cock in a cunt.”_

_“Why are you doing this, Wyn?” asked his mother, wringing her one good hand. She would have to get her other one treated soon enough, but that was none of Wyn’s concern. “We didn’t raise you like this. We raised you like a good Christian boy. This… This is sinful.” Wyn’s eyes flashed with anger. “Where did we go wrong?”_

_“This man is not my father!” thundered Wyn, pointing at the grave that lay at their feet. “This man was a monster. An abomination. Why would I_ ever _want to be something like him?” Wyn’s mother’s expression changed so quickly from grief to fury that he barely had time to strike her other hand away. She had the gall to slap him after all that she and this second husband of hers had done to him. Wyn didn’t care that he’d now broken both of his mother’s hands._

_She didn’t cry out. She opened her mouth at the pain, but no sound came forth. Wyn knelt where his mother had fallen on the ground and grabbed the crucifix around her neck. He pulled. The golden chain snapped. “I killed him” he hissed at his mother. “I learned the dark arts and I killed him, mother.”_

_Wyn’s mother looked at him with abject disgust. “He’s no monster,” she whispered. “You are.” Wyn screamed at his mother with inarticulate rage as he crushed the golden crucifix and the chain in his hands. He dropped the jewelry in a mangled mess in front of his mother, just out of reach of her broken hands._

_The woman started weeping, which was just what Wyn had wanted her to do. From one of the inner pockets of his new jacket — he’d replaced his cardigans — he retrieved a small glass phial. He held it up to his mother’s eyes and collected her tears._

_“That’s it,” he said, standing up and leaving his mother by his step-father’s grave to suffer. “A heart-broken mother’s tears. You better be ready, Lord of Annwn. I’m coming for you, traitorous bastard.”_

_\----------_

“ _Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ ”

Wyn very nearly jumped out of his own skin when the first strains of the chant filtered through the walls of his apartment. The letters blazed golden on the door to the room where he’d prepared everything for the ritual of binding.

“ _Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ ”

The chant was getting louder. Wyn had to wonder if the ritual had decided to spontaneously begin, but then he realized that if that had happened, then the chanting would not have accompanied his adoptive father.

“ _Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ ”

Wyn fell to his knees. The chant was droning, but it was getting progressively louder, until it reached a crescendo that was so loud that the very foundations of the apartment shook. Somehow, none of Wyn’s neighbours seemed to notice.

“ _Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ ”

This was not what Wyn had expected. He was in the middle of his final preparations for the ritual. Everything was in place. He had only needed to draw the circles, concoct the brew, and say the words, and he would have dragged the Lord of Annwn to his home, and bound him. Instead, it seemed, in a fortuitous twist of fate, that Arawn had come to him willingly. Yet, the chanting that accompanied the god whenever he wanted to make himself manifest was incapacitating Wyn.

Slowly, as his adoptive father materialized in the air before the door, and the crippling weight pressing in on his head from all directions started to lift as the chanting subsided. The pain gone, Wyn gritted his teeth, feeling only anger and hurt. Wyn staggered to his feet.

The Welshman raised a dagger, the blade glittering in the light of the room, and the light that Arawn’s skin shed. It was made of obsidian with gold flecks. Wyn ran at his adoptive father but was knocked aside before he even got close. “Pity,” said Arawn, a cruel tone slipping into his voice. “You could have done such great things, Eirwyn Argall,” said the god, looking down on his adopted son’s sprawled form on the floor.

“You!” shouted Wyn, rising to his feet once more with great effort. There were tears sparkling in his eyes. The blade that he’d spent so long preparing lay shattered where he’d dropped it, having turned into brittle glass the moment it left his hand.

“You betrayed me!” screamed Wyn, his entire body shaking from anger and grief and hurt. Wyn leaped for Arawn and wrapped his hands around the god’s neck, and wrung it. “I thought of you as a father,” he sobbed.

Arawn frowned and plucked Wyn’s hands from around his neck, careful to not break anything without needing to. “And I, stranger as you might be to me these days, thought of you as a son, Wyn.” Wyn sank to his knees, trembling.

“You spent three years trying to find a spell that would drag me against my will to this home of yours,” said the god matter-of-factly. Wyn had hoped that Arawn was not aware of it, but he’d forgotten that Arawn was good friends with Y Ddraig Goch, and knew, through the dragon, everything that happened in Wales.

“You needed only ask,” said Arawn with a gentleness that was foreign for the Lord of Annwn. “And I would have come to you.” Arawn shook his head sadly. “I had hoped you would do so many great things with the knowledge I gave you. You squandered it on a blind quest for wrongful vengeance.”

“You took away my love!” screamed Wyn, not daring to look his adoptive father in the eye. He knew the disappointment that would be there. “I had Nico,” he said, voice breaking.

“I had him. He was all I wanted. He loved me back and you know it!” he shouted at Arawn. Well, he shouted at Arawn’s feet. He still refused to look up at his father. Wyn was wracked with sobs from grief and anger that he’d not allowed himself to feel for three years.

“You freed him from my power and let him go back to that heartless fucking bastard that broke his heart!” Wyn sobbed. He shook his head, and pounded his fist on the floor. “You’ve always been merciless, teaching me that everything comes with a price, that the best things in life are won with the most pain, but…” Wyn’s voice was small and afraid. It was frightfully similar to how he’d been all those years ago when Arawn had found him as little more than a babe, shivering on the sidewalk, having run away from home at the tender age of fifteen.

“Did you _have_ to rip my heart out?” The pain in those eight words cut deep. Arawn had loved the boy like a son. Cared for him. Brought him up. Taught him the craft of magic. He did not regret freeing the boy from Wyn’s influence, but he still felt bad for causing his adopted son so much pain.

“Do not blame me for your failures, Eirwyn Argall,” said Arawn sternly. He knew that Wyn wouldn’t appreciate it, but it had always been the only way to get things through Wyn’s head. “My hands were tied.”

Because Wyn knew that his adoptive father was the most powerful god of their lands, at least the most powerful returned god, his first instinct was that Arawn was lying. There was no one that could possibly force Arawn to do something that he didn’t want to do.

Before Wyn could voice his opinion, Arawn held up his hand to silence his adopted son. “The Nameless One told me I had no choice in the matter.” A chill ran down Wyn’s spine. A leaden weight dropped into his stomach. “While none equal me among my arisen brethren, ally or enemy, I must still respect the Nameless One’s wishes. It is older and more powerful than all of us combined.”

Arawn sat down on his haunches. Wyn felt a strong hand wrap around his chin. He did not resist when Arawn tipped his head upward. He looked into his adoptive father’s eyes, and saw no duplicity there.

“I have thought about it for the past years, child…” Wyn could see the sadness in Arawn’s eyes. “I am sorry, but the Nameless One’s wisdom is correct. The boy loved someone else, and no one has the right to force anyone to fall in love with them. Child of Eros or not.”

Wyn snarled at Arawn. Fury had suddenly surged through his veins. Arawn shook his head sadly. “I came today so you wouldn’t need to waste this spell. You will only be able to do it once, because you will not be able to gather the ingredients again. You had no need to drag me here. I would have come willingly anyway.”

Arawn closed his eyes and pressed a tender kiss on Wyn’s forehead. “My dear Wyn,” he said. A shiver ran up Wyn’s body. His mother had used those same words.

“You’ve done well,” said Arawn, unable to keep the pride from his voice. “Your powers have grown great. You’ve learned much about the Craft. Yet, you’ve been so consumed with your quest for vengeance that you’ve missed the world that is right in front of your eyes. You’ve lost sight of what _is_ worth chasing.”

Wyn had no words. They’d died the moment Arawn mentioned the Nameless One. “You are, more than anyone else through the ages, my son,” said Arawn, voice still tinged with pride, but this time it also carried sympathy.

“As your father, if you would have me, I offer you this advice: the only love worth having is love freely given.” Arawn placed one of his palms over Wyn’s chest. “Would it not fill your heart better to know that the boy chose you instead of the other? Would it not be more fulfilling that you received his heart not because you stole it, but because he freely gave it?”

It was a rare moment of tenderness, and one that Wyn would likely remember for all his life. Arawn brushed away a lock of dark hair that had fallen over Wyn’s eyes. Then, he suddenly looked like he’d been struck in the gut.

Arawn shook his head. “The Nameless One spoke to me,” he said.

“Just remember this, my son,” said Arawn. “The truest love is the love that is freely given. Heed these words, and keep them close to your heart. The Nameless One beseeches me to give you news.”

Wyn’s eyes were wide and pleading when he heard mention of news. Anything about Nico. He’d missed the son of Hades a lot. “The boy has returned. He is at Long Island.” Arawn rubbed away the tears from Wyn’s cheeks.

“I know you must go and try to win his heart, my son, but remember what I have told you, and do not despair. The Nameless One tells me that you will go to Long Island, afraid, heartbroken, and scorned.” Wyn blinked away tears. That was exactly how he felt. “You will return beloved. It has been foretold.”

Wyn looked down at his hands, hope shimmering in his breast for the first time. Arawn pressed two things into his hands. The first was an airline ticket for a flight the very next day. The second was a map with a marking that said “Camp Half-Blood.” Immediately, Wyn knew that was where he had to go.

“My dear Wyn,” said Arawn, his form shimmering in the air as he began to fade from Wyn’s view. “Your father might have abandoned you. Your mother might have wronged you. Your stepfather might have violated you. But remember me, cruel as I might me, for death is always cruel. I am the one you now call father, and you are now the one I call son, and let it never be forgotten the truth that I speak: I love you.”

\----------

“Oh,” said Will, slowly. He couldn’t imagine Nico with someone else. Jealousy flared inside of him. He wanted to get angry, but he couldn’t. Even if he was, he wouldn’t have wanted to express it. He would have come across as a massive hypocrite. Nico had no way of knowing that Will actually liked him back.

“What…” Will breathed in deeply. There were tears in his eyes again. Was there possibly a boyfriend of Nico’s out there that was waiting for him to come back? “What happened to him?” he asked, voice trembling.

“Nothing…” said Nico. “Nothing happened.” The look on Nico’s face was one of profound sadness. “He probably doesn’t even remember me anymore.” He’d used the sword to revoke Wyn’s memories of their time together, or at least he was entirely convinced that he had. “It’s better that way. I left him.”

Nico laughed bitterly. “He’s still living his life,” he said, realizing how selfish he was going to sound soon enough. “He’s probably confused that he doesn’t remember a good three months of his life, but he’s still healthy.” Nico’s smile was as bitter as his laugh. “I didn’t want to burden him with a son of Hades’.”

Will frowned at Nico. What on earth was that supposed to mean? “Why did you leave him?” asked Will, his voice breathy and weak. Nico was standing so close to him. Warmth blossomed in Will’s face. Nico closed his eyes. “Why?” he asked, again.

Nico looked up and into Will’s startlingly blue eyes. He took the initiative this time. He placed his hands around Will’s head and pulled him in, placing a passionate, but chaste kiss on Will’s lips. They both turned red instantly afterwards, and looked away from each other.

“I had to leave him.” Nico was trying to control his breathing and his rapidly-beating heart. “It wasn’t right…” he said. “Not after I realized—” Nico took in a deep, ragged breath. “That I was using him to try and forget you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are! Surprise! 12K words or something like that from me today. Be thankful! <3\. Just kidding.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I definitely did enjoy writing this and fleshing out Wyn's character more. I'd like to hear what you think of him, now that you have an idea of his background. Is he still this pure evil person that you've come to know so far?
> 
> What about Nico's reaction to Will? I'd say it was rather rude to laugh at him, but at least Nico didn't insist that it was just a joke and seemed rather okay with it. :3. As for Arachne. What did you think of that scene? >:]
> 
> As always, kudos if you liked it (and haven't already left a kudos), and leave me a comment! I'd like to hear it. :3. If you have questions or just want to talk, send me an ask over at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)!


	12. The Night is Coming

Silence was what greeted Nico’s kiss. Silence that stretched for such a long time that Nico felt like an eternity had passed before it lifted. It wasn’t the kind of intimate silence that made one appreciate one’s partner, either. This silence was the awkward kind, and Nico couldn’t help but shuffle a little where he stood.

Will was gasping for breath. He’d started hyperventilating the moment Nico said that he’d left the other guy for him. It was Nico that had to break the silence, because it was beginning to stretch into two minutes. “Now come on, don’t we have a party to get to?” he teased.

Nico rolled his eyes when Will braced himself against his knees for a minute. It was taking the healer quite a while to compose himself. Truth be told, he’d not expected to feel Nico’s lips on his own for quite a while yet, and he’d been preparing himself for the fact that Nico might not want to do anything _that_ intimate just yet. When Nico went and kissed him, Will lost his shit.

“Alright, alright,” teased Nico, walking up to Will and swallowing down his apprehension at being so close to the other boy. It was strange. One moment he wanted nothing more than to roam his hands all over Will. The next, he wanted nothing to do with physical contact. “It would be quite rude if the guest of honour didn’t show up to the party being thrown for him,” said Nico with a laugh.

Will looked at Nico for a moment, as he continued to try and catch his breath. Being kissed by surprise had winded him, for some odd reason. Nevertheless, if it meant he’d be kissed by Nico more, he would gladly stop breathing.

For the second time that day, Will drank in the sight of Nico. There was so much about Nico that was the same. He was still painfully thin. He was still gorgeous. He still looked like he was always frowning. He still had that shaggy, unruly hair that just fell in a suspiciously-unnatural way around his face.

Yet, despite all that, there were many things different about Nico. He had more muscle now. He was thin, yes, but he was lean. The gaunt expression on Nico’s face was deeper. There were lines around his face, not only from scowling, or frowning. Nico was changed.

All the same, Nico was every bit as beautiful, if not more, than he had been three years ago. Will was different. He knew that. He knew it better than anyone. He’d been the one waking up every day to see himself wasting away and _hating_ it, but at the same time, lacking the motivation to do anything about it.

Will had let go of his own health when Nico had disappeared. He wasn’t nearly as important as anyone else in the camp. The blame rested solely on his shoulders, or at least he thought it did, for Nico’s fate.

Now that Nico was back, Will was somewhat surprised that he still found no desire to take care of himself. The only thing burning in him was a desire to protect and take care of Nico. He still blamed himself. That wasn’t going to change. Not for a while yet.

Nico was now concerned for Will. The son of Apollo still hadn’t spoken. He still hadn’t met Nico’s eyes. Had he done something wrong by kissing Will? Wyn had not seemed to have any problems when Nico initiated the kiss. “Oh,” he mouthed, silently, to himself. Maybe Will was jealous.

Nico’s hand hovered over Will’s shoulder. He swallowed down bile and squeezed his eyes shut. Even the proximity was becoming uncomfortable all of a sudden. Nico couldn’t help but curse himself. Just minutes ago, he’d kissed Will spontaneously. What in Hades was he doing being so apprehensive about touching Will _now_?

Before Nico could place his hand on Will’s shoulder, though, he felt a tight grip around his wrist. He cracked open his eyes to see Will looking straight at him, brilliant blue eyes boring into his dark ones. “I told you, Nico,” breathed Will. “I don’t want you forcing yourself to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

Will released his hand. For some reason, that tight grip that almost felt aggressive had not been any problem. Nico shook his head. He had no idea what was going on with himself. He took back his hand and clutched it to his chest.

“You’re right,” said Will, shaking his head and rising to his full height. “You’re right,” repeated the son of Apollo, the tremble gone from his voice the second time. “Follow me,” said Will, flatly. “I know where to go,” he said, turning to leave.

“Will?” asked Nico, as they left the alleyway and entered the street. “Are you alright?” There was no answer, or at least, there wasn’t one forthcoming. “How have you been all this time?” he asked, trying to make some small-talk. _Something_. He didn’t understand what had suddenly changed between the two of them. Nico had been happy. Will evidently hadn’t.

It took twenty paces before Will started talking again. Nico watched how his boyfriend walked. There was an air of confidence about Will now. It hadn’t been there the last they’d seen each other. Yet, Will’s shoulders still slumped forward, revealing that he still had problems deep down.

“Well, let’s see…” said Will, giving up on trying to not sound vindictive. He tried to keep the venom from his voice, but it wasn’t working as well as he hoped. At least he couldn’t be blamed for not trying. “I was in a bit of a slump,” he said with a shrug.

“The guy I had a massive crush on for the longest time, the guy I was slowly falling in love with even though I was sure he liked someone else just suddenly vanished because of my stupidity without even letting me explain my side of the story, or, I dunno, coming back after some time to cool off so that we could talk it out.”

Every word was dripping with acid. Every word made Nico flinch. They stood there, frozen where they had been when Will finished. Nico was about twenty paces behind Will. Will was breathing laboriously. He’d said that whole diatribe in one breath.

“Then, because I was hurting so bad, I ended up fucking his best friend—” Nico wanted to say that Jason wasn’t his best friend, but he supposed that much was true. “—the guy broke up with his girlfriend for me, and fell in love with me, and I turned him away because someone who’d been missing for three years suddenly turns up.”

Will still wasn’t looking at Nico. He wasn’t done. He didn’t want Nico to see the anger in his eyes. The years of pent-up frustration, and self-loathing that he’d cultivated in himself. He’d had no one to talk to except Jason, and even then, he’d only opened up to Jason when drunk and vulnerable. “Then he comes up to me, kisses me, and tells me that he left someone he dated for _three months_ for me.”

Will whirled around and faced Nico, eyes red and tears streaming down his face. Nico got a good long look at Will. He was so different from the Will that he remembered so long ago. That Will had glowed. This one was dull. A twisted shade of what once was.

“As if I didn’t have enough guilt riding on my shoulders,” said Will, bitterly. “Now I can’t get the thought of some poor guy losing not only his boyfriend, but also three months of his memories, because of me.” Something broke in Nico, seeing Will like this.

“Will, I…” Nico was at a complete loss of words. He didn’t know what to say as slowly, inexorably, Will collapsed to the ground. Sobs were wracking Will’s body, the piteous, horrid sound echoing off of the walls of the buildings, mercifully hollow, but also eerily silent in the light of the setting sun.

No answer came for a long while. “No,” Will croaked. The tremors that had wracked him finally subsided. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known…” Will’s voice broke. What had become of him? It wasn’t like him to have emotional meltdowns in front of anyone else like this. “I don’t blame you.”

Nico walked towards Will and knelt in front of his boyfriend, sparing Will the shame of looking up at him from the floor. This way they were on level ground. “You should,” he said, softly. Nico racked his brain for a fragment of a memory about the night of his departure.

Nico knew that he wouldn’t find it. Whatever memories he had were locked away somewhere not even he, nor the gods could reach. “I should’ve come back,” he admitted. “Said something about my side of the story. Listened to yours…”

The son of Hades gripped the drakonskin cloak around his shoulders. All he could remember about that night was pain. Vivid, unadulterated pain. It was almost as though because the memories themselves had been taken away, the pain they brought came into sharp focus. Nico gasped, his knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip.

Nico cracked open his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them. Will’s face was twisted in agony, but Nico could see his own reflection in the bright blue eyes looking up at him. They were mirror images of one another. “You wouldn’t have,” said Will, stiffly.

Before Nico could say anything to defend himself, and he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to, owing to the almost-incapacitating emotional pain he was experiencing. “You thought I confessed to Lou Ellen that I liked her. Right after I assured you that I really didn’t like her. That we were just friends.”

Will’s eyes glittered with tears again. “You felt betrayed,” he said softly. Nico forced down the pain and focused on Will’s startlingly blue eyes and burned those into his memory. They were filled with so much sorrow and guilt. Nico wanted to remember this look in Will’s eyes so that he would know what to avoid with all his might.

“I don’t…” Will was barely managing to keep himself together. “I don’t blame you. It was my fault for being careless. Lou Ellen told me it wasn’t a good idea to invite her into your cabin without asking your permission. I didn’t listen to her. You felt betrayed. Angry. It was all my fault.” Will was babbling, but Nico could still understand him. He wanted to reach out, to touch Will, to console him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He didn’t want to make this image of Will so broken any more real than it already was.

“Lou Ellen told me afterwards that when you screamed, she felt nothing but your pure, absolute hatred for her. She was terrified.” Nico blinked. He hadn’t realized… No, he didn’t hate Lou Ellen. He had no reason to. It was just a misunderstanding, right?

Nico forced himself to look at Will, and not just at his eyes.

The son of Apollo was gaining some of his composure back. Pink had crept into his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Nico,” he managed, through gritted teeth. “I-I…” Nico forced himself to hug Will. It only felt appropriate after all he’d put his boyfriend through. “I… didn’t think I would have a mental breakdown…” Will wrapped his own arms around Nico, shivering in relief. “That scream…” he whispered in Nico’s ear. “It was the most horrible sound I’ve ever heard…” he said. “I don’t want to ever have to hear it again.”

“If you don’t blame me for things out of my control, Will, why do you blame yourself for things outside yours?” asked Nico, his heart pounding in his chest.

Will pulled away from him, looked him in the eye and said “Because I’m a coward.”

\----------

“Apollo,” Calypso said from the threshold of the cabin. “We have visitors.” Both Apollo and Leo looked up from the Valdezinator, and blinked owlishly at Calypso. “…I’m not sure how to make it more clear to you two woolheads. We have visitors.”

Leo had been teaching Apollo what he could teach about the Valdezinator. The problem with the damn thing, as they quickly realized, was the fact that the instrument responded to emotion, and Apollo’s music was driven, at the moment, by simmering anger and barely-contained hatred, making it discordant and unpleasant in general.

“We’re coming…” said Apollo, cautiously. Calypso rolled her eyes and strolled out the door. “Is she always that uptight?” he asked, turning to Leo and jerking his head in the direction of Calypso. Apollo was still naked, but Leo had gotten used to just not looking down in the presence of Apollo.

“She can be a bit of a pain at times,” admitted Leo. “But so can I.” Apollo grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like agreement. Leo scowled. “Hey, if you got a problem with me, tell it to my face,” he said. Apollo rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I do. I have a problem with you inventing this damn machine and getting me involved in this whole mess to begin with,” said Apollo dryly as they crossed the threshold of the cabin and stepped out into the cold daylight of Siberia. “No, I’m not serious, woolhead,” added Apollo when it looked like Leo was about to go on the defensive.

“Hey! Only Calypso calls me th—” Leo was cut off when he saw _them_ beyond the trees. Some of them were hiding behind the trunks. Others were on treetops, obviously look-outs. The Hunters of Artemis. Thalia was at their head.

Apollo and Leo ran up to the border of the clearing, and more than one huntress gagged at the sight of Apollo’s naked body. “Hey!” the once-god protested. “You see my sister naked all the time, why in Hades am I any different, huh? That’s discrimination!”

Thalia rolled her eyes. Apollo always pulled this. The vast majority of the girls that had gagged were newer hunters and were thus unaware of Apollo’s antics. “We get it, Lord Apollo,” Thalia called out. “You’re hot, you’re gorgeous, blah blah.” Apollo laughed and winked at Thalia. She stuck her tongue out in response.

“Sharp as ever, daughter of Zeus,” teased Apollo.

“You’re not so bad yourself, half-brother,” Thalia replied. She stepped forward, inching closer towards the border of the clearing. Calypso had thankfully spotted the Hunters before they got too close. She’d been able to warn them not to cross the circle.

Apollo’s face darkened. “Don’t call me that,” he said. Thalia was taken aback by the aggression in Apollo’s voice. Even Calypso was surprised. Normally the god of the Sun was more laid-back and relaxed. This was different. “Zeus is not my father. Not anymore,” he spat.

“Very well, Lord Apollo,” said Thalia, cordially. She didn’t really consider herself her father’s daughter either. She considered herself more an adopted daughter of Artemis. And by that logic, Apollo was her adopted uncle. “What are you doing out here in the middle of Siberia, Lord Apollo?” she asked.

Apollo fixed Thalia with a dry stare. “Really?” he asked, incredulous. “Even if Calypso hadn’t told you that I was cursed to stay here by Zeus, surely you have enough experience in the matter to know that whenever people get stuck in strange places or as strange things, Zeus is probably behind it.”

Thalia shot back an equally dry stare. She did not like being reminded of her years as a pine tree. “Fair enough, Lord Apollo,” she said, curtly. The newer huntresses were growing more and more uncomfortable with Apollo’s nudity. The worst of the lot seemed like they wanted to bolt.

“Lord Apollo, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Lady Artemis is, would you?” asked Thalia. The expression on Apollo’s face darkened even more. It almost rivalled the look on Zeus’ on one of his infamous days. Everyone was wise to steer clear of Olympus on those days. Well, when Olympus had been open, at least.

“I do,” said Apollo. “I know exactly where she is,” he said. He raised his godly arm and instinctively pointed it right at the heart of the sun. “Well, not physically there, but she’s driving the chariot of the sun. And the moon.”

“If you’re wondering why you haven’t seen my dear sister around, then it’s probably because she’s too tired driving the fucking chariots, because Zeus decreed it,” said Apollo with venom in his voice. “You can’t save her unless you petition to Zeus, and even then I don’t think the old fart would listen.”

Leo and Calypso looked at each other, feeling entirely tertiary to this conversation that was taking place. “Hold on,” said Leo during the lull in conversation that happened. “Why, exactly, are you here, again?” he asked. “I don’t think we ever asked you why Zeus cursed you.”

“I was only helping my son,” said Apollo through gritted teeth. “I was helping my son defend the one that he’d given his heart to.” There was an ancient pain behind Apollo’s words that he dismissed instantly after. “That, and, well, I kind of channelled the Oracle and spoke a prophecy as Zeus cast me down.”

“A prophecy?” asked Calypso. All eyes and ears swivelled toward Apollo who, for the first time in a long while, bristled at the attention. Apollo nodded. “What kind of prophecy would be so bad that Zeus would curse you like this?”

“The Father’s bane,” said Apollo, simply.

Understanding dawned on Calypso’s face. “The First Curse,” she whispered, in horrified awe.

“The First Curse,” Apollo agreed. Thalia’s face was grim. Leo, on the other hand, was confused. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get any of it. He also didn’t get why everyone else seemed to get it.

Apollo ignored Leo. “ _Come Darkest Night, come Brightest Day, the Father’s Bane shall daybreak slay. With breaking dawn and jubilation, Kings shall fall to retribution._ ” A chill wind blew through the trees when Apollo finished reciting the prophecy. The half-god blinked and shook his head.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Apollo admitted. “Now go, before Zeus learns you’re here,” he said, sternly, to the Hunters. Many of them were eager enough to take the suggestion. The majority of their forces melted back into the trees. Thalia’s closest circle, however, stayed behind, faces stoic and grim.

“He can’t,” said Thalia, simply. “Olympus is closed to everyone that was not on it when Zeus closed it off.”

\----------

Percy and Annabeth were hopelessly lost. “Why are we lost?” asked Percy, after a little while. He looked at Annabeth quizzically. “Didn’t you and your mom plan this city?”

Annabeth turned and fixed Percy with her most wilting glare. “Really?” she asked, flatly. “Are you really implying that I should know, by heart, the way every fucking road in the city goes? Every possible path to take from every possible location?” Annabeth flushed pink. She didn’t often swear, but she was tense.

Percy laughed nervously and shrugged. “Y-yeah?” he said, nervously. Annabeth scowled at him. “Hey!” said the son of Poseidon, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender. “We’ve been together a _while_ , Annabeth, but I have _no_ clue how far your powers go.”

Annabeth sighed. Percy was right. The powers of the children of Athena were mostly abstract and difficult to grasp. Of course, strategy, wiles, and architecture were some of the more blatant gifts of the children of Athena, but good memory was one of the more abstract. Still, Annabeth’s memory wasn’t _that_ good.

“Ugh, fine. I don’t see you trying to help, seaweed-brain,” Annabeth said in exasperation as she spotted a building that they’d seen five minutes ago. “We’re going around in circles! Stop distracting me, Percy,” said Annabeth with a scowl.

\----------

“You are anything _but_ a coward,” said Nico. His words were sharper than he’d expected, but in his experience, Will had never been really good at listening to anything not yelled at him. Nico didn’t have the heart to yell at Will after witnessing the healer’s breakdown.

“No you’re not,” pressed Nico, before Will could deny it. “You constantly go into battle, risking your life, to save those that already have. You _healed_ me, even if you thought it would kill you. That’s bravery if I’ve ever seen it, Solace,” said Nico. “Give yourself more credit.”

“I already do,” said Will, bitterly. “I give myself credit for everything wrong that’s happened in camp since you left because I was too much of a coward to say anything to you about what I felt. I give myself credit for the fact that Piper and Jason broke up. I give myself credit for the fact that Jason is now heartbroken. I give myself credit for the fact that there is a heartbroken man somewhere in Wales who lost three months of his life, and doesn’t even know he’s heartbroken.” Nico shook his head. Talking to Will, sometimes, was like talking to a rock.

“Stop it,” said Nico, unable to keep the anger from his voice. “Stop it right now, Will.” The son of Apollo just shook his head and looked away. “Will…” Nico’s voice softened. “Fine. Give yourself credit for all of that, but at least give yourself credit for all the good things you’ve done, too.”

“Like what?” asked Will, bitterly, looking down at his own hands in distaste, and seeing the lacerated skin of his arms, dripping with blood, instead of healthy, unbroken skin. “What good have I done that can make up for all the bad?”

Nico shook his head from side to side, incredulous that Will couldn’t even think of it. “You saved my life,” he said, softly, running the second knuckle of his index finger along the side of Will’s cheek. The affection made his stomach twist, but he prevailed. “You saved my life, twice.”

Will wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up at Nico. There was gratitude swimming behind the brilliant blue. Profound gratitude. “I suppose,” said Will, finally smiling after the longest time. “I suppose that is a good thing, huh?” he said, humour slipping back into his voice.

“I sure hope it’s a good thing,” said Nico, rising to his feet and offering his hand to help Will stand. Will looked up at Nico gratefully, and mouthed thanks, but brushed away the arm that had been offered. Instead the healer pushed himself to his feet and brushed down his clothes as he did.

“I told you,” said Will, pink creeping into his cheeks as he looked at Nico. “You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

\----------

“I’m not distracting you!” said Percy, who was walking about ten steps behind Annabeth, _Anaklusmos_ in his hands. It took a few more minutes, but finally, they took a corner down an alleyway. The alley opened into one of the main streets. “Oh, would you look at that,” said Percy with a smirk. He walked up to Annabeth, wrapped his arm around her waist, spun her around and kissed her. “ _That’s_ distracting you,” he said.

Annabeth couldn’t help but giggle. Then she scowled at Percy and pushed him away. “Shut up, seaweed-brain. We’ve got a situation on our hands,” she said. Percy frowned. The day should’ve been a happy one. Nico had come back to them after three years.

Of course, as always, having a purely happy day was too much to ask of the Fates. Percy shook his head. “Do you think we should tell Chiron?” asked Percy. Annabeth looked at him as though he was mad. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. I meant should we tell him _now_?”

Annabeth was about to say yes, but then she thought about it. “I mean,” said Percy, with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Nico just came back…” he said, slowly. Annabeth raised an eyebrow, and waited. “There’s going to be a party… Don’t you think he deserves at _least_ one night of everyone being happy?”

Annabeth blinked at her boyfriend. This was one of those rare moments when Percy was particularly sage. There was no denying that Nico deserved at least some happiness. Perhaps it was her own sense of guilt for Nico’s disappearance, but she said, “Yeah. Let’s tell Chiron after.”

“Oof! What was that fo—” Annabeth had pinned Percy against the wall. Silently, she jerked her head toward the street. Percy frowned, but strained his ears to listen. Sure enough, there was someone coming.

Will and Nico walked past the alley without even looking into it. It seemed as though they were deep in conversation. Annabeth and Percy shared a look, and Annabeth very nearly slapped Percy when a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. Silently, Percy capped _Anaklusmos_ and crept towards the opening of the alleyway.

Will and Nico’s voices were audible, but just barely. Annabeth followed Percy and, while she knew it was pretty terrible to eavesdrop, she followed Percy’s lead and stuck her head around the corner. “I really don’t remember…” said Nico, his voice faltering.

“It’s okay…” said Will. The two demigods stopped and looked at one another, an uncertain smile turning up the corners of Will’s lips. Annabeth and Percy both retreated back into the alleyway. That had been a close one. “We’ll find a way to get your memories back,” said Will. Annabeth and Percy frowned at each other.

“After all,” said Will, the nerves in his voice palpable. “Percy and Jason got their memories back, right?” Percy shivered. Annabeth looked like she was going to be sick. If this was going to be another crisis like the one that they had to endure with Gaea, Annabeth did not know how she would be able to handle it.

When Percy and Annabeth looked around the corner again, Will and Nico were gone. “About that telling Chiron after the party thing…” said Percy slowly, eyes wide. “How about we do it _immediately_ after?” Annabeth nodded. If something was coming, they needed to prepare.

\----------

Chiron was mostly minding his own business, attending to the last-minute details of the party that was about to take place, when he saw the rainbow shimmering out of the corner of his eye.

The old centaur had to wonder if it was one of his more exuberant brethren calling because of news that he was setting up a party, but instead, the rather gaunt face of Thalia Grace appeared in the Iris message.

Chiron wasn’t even surprised when Poseidon, Athena, and Hades all appeared behind him, to tune in to the conversation that was bound to be interesting. “Chiron,” said Thalia. Chiron dipped his head in a bow. “Lord Poseidon, Lord Hades, Lady Athena. We’ve found Lord Apollo.”

The gods looked at one another, and at Chiron. “Where?” asked the centaur. The Hunters didn’t look like they were anywhere on the American continent. At least not anywhere that Chiron was familiar with. He looked at Athena and the others. Their faces showed little recognition of the place, if any.

“Siberia,” said Thalia. “Lord Zeus hurled him out of Olympus the day before Olympus closed.” Again, the gods shared a look. Their suspicions were being confirmed. Whatever it was that had happened to Olympus had to do with the spat between Zeus and Apollo. Exactly how, however, they could only speculate.

“We have a problem,” said Thalia.

“Don’t we always?” asked Hades dryly. More than anyone else, Hades was familiar with his brother’s stupidity, his inability to get over his paranoia about the First Curse. “What has my brother done, this time?” he asked, looking worriedly at Poseidon and Athena.

“It’s not Lord Zeus,” said Thalia grimly, almost as though she didn’t want to admit to what she was about to say. “It’s another Great Prophecy.” Chiron stomped his foot in outrage. The gods, too, were confused. Before Athena could say anything, Thalia said, “I know. Lord Apollo didn’t think Oracle was available to him either.”

“What did the prophecy foretell?” asked Athena, voice stern and almost as grave as Thalia’s. Her eyes glittered as though she had a sneaking suspicion of what kind of prophecy would cause her father to close off the seat of their power to _everyone_.

Thalia recited the prophecy to Athena, whose face grew darker and darker with each line. Even Chiron was looking increasingly agitated. Hades, on the other hand grew more and more pale. “Nyx,” he breathed. Everyone’s concentration on the Iris-message broke, and Poseidon, Athena, Chiron and Thalia all looked at Hades.

“Nyx is coming for us all,” Hades whispered, horrified. Poseidon paled and vanished from sight in a puff of saltwater mist. In the distance Hades could hear the dull thumping of Earthshaker on the ground. The air around the city was suddenly suffused with power, and a massive dome of sea-green energy sparked into life.

The glow of the barrier lasted for a moment before it faded, but Hades knew that the borders had been closed. “My son,” said Hades, not knowing what else to do but to say what Nico had asked of him. “My son has asked something impossible of me.”

Athena raised an eyebrow at Hades. “He asked me to slay Tartarus.” The silence that followed was deafening. The Iris-message fizzled out right as Thalia looked behind her and cursed.

“We’ve lost connection,” said Chiron. There had been something, a dark cloud, swirling in the distance beyond Thalia before the Iris-message got cut-off. “Iris, can you get her back on the line?” Chiron asked. No response came from the goddess. The sound of crackling static filled the air for a moment or two. Then, silence. The connection could not be re-established.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter. :3.
> 
> If there was any confusion as to whether Will was stable, let's just say that he's not. Let's face it. He's a wreck. He's been a wreck for three years. Just because Nico came back doesn't mean that all that mostly self-induced trauma is going to go away. Will still _loathes_ himself. The only reason that it doesn't come through is because he's far more concerned for Nico that he's not thinking too much about himself. :3.
> 
> Things are starting to fall apart. XD. What do you think happened to Thalia? What do you think is going to happen next? :3. _How_ are they going to be happy if this crisis is happening _now_? I'd love to read your thoughts, so leave kudos and comments!
> 
> Also, drop by my tumblr and ask me questions if you'd like! [Malkuthe Highwind!](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	13. A King to Make Them Tremble

Annabeth and Percy got to the square first, surprisingly enough. Will and Nico seemed to have suddenly vanished. From the street that they exited onto, Annabeth had known exactly where to go. It seemed like Will hadn’t, because neither Percy nor Annabeth caught sight of the two demigods as they went back to the square.

“Do you think Nico has anything to do with Arachne coming back?” asked Percy, as they sat down on the table they’d claimed earlier. Percy’s voice was soft, and Annabeth had to struggle to hear what he was saying. At first, Annabeth was a bit wary of answering Percy. It sounded a lot like an accusation, and if anything, the last thing they wanted to do was chase Nico away again.

Fortunately, Percy clarified his question again. “I’m not saying he’s betrayed us, Annabeth. I’m just wondering if maybe he was running away from ‘The Mistress’ and that’s why he came back today?” Annabeth had been thinking the same thing, but they couldn’t be sure.

“I was thinking about it,” admitted Annabeth. “It could just be a coincidence,” she said. “But I think it’s a bloody unrealistic coincidence if Nico returned today of all days and someone we thought was a spider came back as a beautiful woman. Ow!” Percy had elbowed Annabeth in the ribs.

Jason and Piper were approaching their table. The two demigods dropped into the chairs right across from Percy and Annabeth. “Hey,” said Jason. “Did you hear?” he asked.

 Percy and Annabeth looked at each other, somewhat confused. “Will and Nico are together now,” said Jason. Percy frowned. He could tell when Jason was bothered about something, and he most definitely was now. The enthusiasm in his voice sounded forced at best, and there was an unmistakable hint of bitterness to it.

“Really?” asked Annabeth, oblivious to the look on Jason’s face because she was looking at Piper. Piper nodded. “That’s great!” she said, with a genuine smile. Just then, Annabeth spotted Reyna in the distance and waved her arm. The praetor noticed her after a few moments and approached.

Reyna plopped down onto the seat next to Percy and looked at the glum expression on Jason’s face. “What’s up?” she asked. “And what’s wrong with you, Jason?” The _pontifex_ just scowled at Reyna and said nothing. “Okay,” she said. “Anyone care to fill me in on what’s going on?”

Piper placed her hand on Jason’s arm. Reyna tilted her head at the two of them, her expression quizzical. Piper looked at Reyna, then back down at her hand, then back at Reyna. “Oh, no, no, we’re not back together,” she said, softly. “It’s Will and Nico,” she said. “They’re together now.”

For a moment, Reyna wasn’t quite sure she was hearing what she was hearing. “Is he happy?” she asked, just as Nico and Will strolled into the square from one of the alleyways that opened into it. Both boys had small smiles on their faces. “I see he is,” said Reyna, smiling. “I’m glad.”

“We all are,” managed Jason weakly, forcing a smile. He was. He really was glad. The only problem was that he was also heartbroken. Will had rejected him earlier, and even though he’d been preparing himself for weeks for the rejection, it still hurt.

Jason should have known that he would never be able to compete with Nico for Will’s heart. Nor could he compete with Will for Nico’s. Now both the young men for whom he’d fallen were together, and happy, while Jason was basking in his misery. He didn’t think Nico and Will could welcome a third into their relationship either.

Even if they could, Jason didn’t know if he would want to try it. He felt as though if he inserted himself into the relationship between Will and Nico, that he would just be the third wheel anyway. The idea wasn’t very appealing.

Reyna looked at Jason with brows furrowed in concern. She was glad for Nico and Will, but the look on Jason’s face was so similar to the look she’d seen on Will’s in the days following Nico’s disappearance that her chest ached in pity for him.

Reyna had already put two-and-two together, of course. She was aware that Jason always went to see Will when he got back to camp. Piper had often come to her about the frustrations she had with Jason. When she heard that Nico and Will were together, and saw the state Jason was in, she knew that the _pontifex_ had fallen for the healer.

Reyna reached across the table and clapped a hand against Jason’s arm. “You’ll be alright,” she said, sharing with him some of her strength. A little bit of the colour returned to Jason, and he smiled at Reyna appreciatively.

“You’ll find someone, eventually,” said the Praetor.

“I hope,” mumbled Jason to no one in particular. He was still hurting, but Reyna was right. He would be alright. He’d always been able to bounce back, after all, right? Jason nodded to himself. Reyna smiled, and let go of his arm.

Percy and Annabeth were both mostly oblivious to what was going on with Jason. Annabeth, especially. Percy knew Jason wasn’t feeling well, but thought it wasn’t appropriate to ask. Annabeth, on the other hand, was busy poring over what Arachne had told her. _“Oblivion is coming for you, silvertongue,”_ the spider had said.

A wave of silence rolled over the square as everyone finally started to notice that Nico and Will had arrived. Everyone turned to look at the son of Hades. In the time he’d been away, Nico had attained almost-legendary status in the camp. It was evident, though, that the son of Hades was not comfortable with the attention.

The silence was deafening. It was almost as though everyone was realizing, for the first time in the evening, that it was true, that Nico _truly_ had returned. It was almost unbelievable to some of them.

Reyna was pretty sure she was still having some trouble processing the fact that Nico was back, and that he had seemingly changed so much. Jason raised his arm and waved at Will. The healer saw him, whispered something in Nico’s ear, and pointed at the table. Nico frowned and said something back to Will, but it looked like Will was insisting on something.

Reyna turned to Jason and saw the _pontifex_ ’s shoulders slump forward when Will dashed off elsewhere, to the chagrin of Nico, who looked warily at everyone that was staring at him. “I think he needs some rescuing, Jason,” said Reyna, softly.

Jason looked at the praetor and frowned for a moment. Then he looked at Nico in the distance. Nico’s eyes were frightened, and his gaze met Jason’s. The son of Jupiter’s heart skipped a beat and he jumped to his feet. “It seems so,” he said.

Jason looked at Piper. The daughter of Aphrodite looked at Reyna, then nodded. “Go,” she said. Just as Jason was about to take his first step in the direction of Nico, Piper stood up and grabbed his arm. “Be honest,” she said, softly. Momentary terror gripped Jason, but he buried it with determination.

It took him a little while, but Jason finally reached Nico, who was being surrounded by curious, and ultimately ignorant new campers, asking him all sorts of questions. Jason had seen Nico in many situations before, but he had never quite seen the son of Hades _this_ uncomfortable.

Nico flinched when Jason reached through the crowd of campers and gripped his arm. Jason knew that Nico didn’t like physical contact, but it was the only way Jason could get to him. “Nico,” he called out. “Nico it’s me,” he said. Jason heard a sigh of relief through the noise of the crowd.

“Get me out of here, Grace!” Nico said, trying his best to stay in the middle of the crowd and away from the demigods that were crowding him. Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. He was nervous, yes, but Nico had a way of being unintentionally funny.

“Alright, alright,” said Jason, sternly. It was directed more at the younger campers crowding Nico than at Nico himself. “Enough,” said Jason, elbowing his way through the crowd. “Give the guy some space,” the crowd loosened a bit. Jason was able to make his way through the ring to stand next to Nico.

“How does this qualify as getting me out of here, Jason?” asked Nico.

Jason rolled his eyes, feeling emboldened by his success, and the fact that Nico was looking to him for a plan. “Oh ye of little faith,” he said, with a smirk.

Nico frowned at Jason. “You know being _pontifex_ doesn’t mean _literally_ being a priest, right?” he said, flatly. Jason shrugged and wrapped his arm around Nico’s waist. “Jason, I have a boyfriend,” said Nico in the same monotone, not-amused voice. Jason shrugged. “And what part of no touching did you not understaAAAH!”

Nico turned a couple of shades of red at the sound of his own shrill scream. He pounded his fist on Jason’s chest and unleashed a litany of profanities that would have made even the most storm-hardened sailor blush. Even Jason was blushing at the colour of Nico’s words.

“Nico!” shouted Jason as they shot up into the sky. “Stop struggling!” he pleaded. “Will is going to kill me if I drop you!” Nico scowled at Jason and made the mistake of looking down. The height made him dizzy almost instantly. He froze in Jason’s arms.

Slowly, they started to descend. The crowd had started to disperse. “Nico, can we talk?” asked Jason while they were still about thirty feet off the ground. “There’s something I think I need to tell you,” said Jason slowly. “I think because you’re with Will, you deserve to know that…”

Five feet off the ground, Nico pushed himself free of Jason’s arms and rolled to cushion his landing. Jason shook his head at Nico’s recklessness, though the way that Nico had landed so fluidly gave him the impression that Nico had done it many times before. “I know,” said Nico, once he was back on his feet.

Jason blinked once or twice at Nico, trying to process what had just been said. “You know?” he asked, voice small and vulnerable. He tried to read Nico’s expression, but it resisted his efforts. At least Nico wasn’t shouting and yelling and cursing him.

“I know,” said Nico again, nodding to emphasize his point. “It’s alright,” he said. “Thank you, Jason.” Jason’s eyes widened. This was not what he’d expected. He’d expected Nico to throw a fit about Jason sleeping with his boyfriend. The last thing he’d expected was Nico to thank him for it.

In a trance, Jason walked toward Nico and threw his arms around the son of Hades. His closeness with Jason made Nico’s stomach turn. It was worse than when he had been up in the air, but it was far less nauseating than what he’d started to feel, inexplicably, around Will. Nico gritted his teeth and persevered. “Why are you thanking me?” asked Jason, pulling away and looking at Nico with disbelief.

“Because I know that you helped him through dark times,” said Nico. He was not aware of the things that Will endured during the three years he was away, and Nico suspected that it would take him a lifetime before he could understand. Nevertheless, the one thing that Nico was certain Jason did, was help Will through it all.

“He was in a very dark place,” admitted Jason. He didn’t want to think of all the times that he’d seen Will drenched in blood and in alcohol. Too many times, in the darkness of night as he lay awake, he’d pondered how many times he’d managed to save Will’s life just by showing up at the right time to stop him from doing too much damage to himself. Jason shook his head. Nevertheless, he couldn’t rid himself of those images. “A very dark place.”

“Did…” Nico’s voice faltered. “Did you love him?” Nico had no reason to not believe what Will had told him earlier, but he wanted to hear it from Jason. He was still skeptical, even if he trusted his boyfriend more than anyone. “Did you… Did you give him up for me?”

“I loved him,” Jason admitted. The moment he spoke the words for Nico, it felt as though there was a massive weight lifted off of his chest. “I love him.” Jason blinked away the tears that were welling. Jason shook his head sadly from side to side. “He was never mine to give up, Nico…” he said quietly.

“I might have borrowed his heart for a little bit, but he was never mine,” said Jason. “Maybe he thought he was mine for a little while, while we lay together after we’d… After we’d…” Jason’s voice broke. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“After you’d fucked?” asked Nico.

Jason nodded. “Did you know he glows in the mornings?” asked Jason, voice small and vulnerable. “He…” Jason breathed deeply, trying to keep the tears from his voice. It didn’t work very well. “He always had the brightest smile when he woke up…”

“I wished he was mine,” said Jason sadly. “I wished with all my heart, but I knew he couldn’t be, because he had given himself freely to someone else.” Nico’s chest hurt. He could feel the pain radiating from Jason. He couldn’t help but feel bad for taking Will away from him.

“He always reminded me that I wasn’t his, and he wasn’t mine.” Nico scowled. That was unnecessarily brutal of Will’s. Jason came to Will’s defense. “No, he never said anything,” said Jason. “He would look at my face, and I think, he would realize that I wasn’t you…”

“Then, this look of horror just takes over…” Jason shook his head. He didn’t want to remember, but that was another of the images permanently burned into his mind. The look of despair that crossed Will’s face during the mornings after they coupled. “It’s like… There was nothing more shameful than what we’d just done…”

“Then he’d start crying. He’d cry for an hour or two…” Jason shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I’d just lie there, holding him. I would cry too because I knew he would never be mine like I wanted him to be, because he was always yours.”

Nico choked back a sob. The way that Jason recounted his experiences with Will. It was heartbreaking. Nico had thought it would be more flippant, but no, Jason was truly, deeply invested in his boyfriend, and Nico couldn’t help but feel guilty. “I’m sorry,” he said.

”You don’t have to be,” said Jason. “You don’t have to be.” The second time he said it was more to reassure himself than Nico. His heart ached, but the more he talked about it to Nico, the more the weight on his chest lessened. “I would do it again, given the choice…”

Nico shook his head. “No one should ever have to give up so much for someone else…” he whispered. He’d not meant for Jason to hear his words, but Jason did, nevertheless. The son of Jupiter tilted his head at Nico, his expression definitely questioning.

“Then why do you?” asked Jason, taking one step toward Nico. The son of Hades took one step back. He looked away. Both Nico and Jason had forgotten all about the other demigods. The ones sitting on tables around them, and their friends, who were watching the interaction with rapt interest.

“It’s different,” said Nico, stiffly. He looked once at Jason’s electric blue eyes, and saw a demand for a better answer in them. From that moment, Nico decided he would avoid looking into Jason’s eyes again. “It’s very different, and you wouldn’t understand.” Jason shook his head, and the silent disapproval _hurt._

“How is it different?” asked Jason. “I don’t know what you did the three years you were gone, Nico, but I know what you did back then, when we were still fighting Gaea. You risked your life to save us all. You risked your life for Percy.”

“You gave up on Percy so that he can be happy with Annabeth. Why do you give up so much to make the people you love happy?” demanded Jason, now standing right in front of Nico. “Why do you do it, Nico?” he asked, voice soft and gentle.

“Because their happiness is worth more than mine,” said Nico, biting back tears. Nico looked up at Jason’s electric blue eyes and saw nothing but sympathy, the kind that only a kindred soul could show. Nico squeezed his eyes shut. Jason’s eyes were so much like Will’s. He found his heartbeat speeding up in his chest.

“Jason, please…” begged Nico, trying to push the son of Jupiter away. Jason didn’t budge. Nico could already see, despite the fact that he wasn’t looking, that Jason had a disappointed, disapproving look on his face. Nico knew that Jason would say that his happiness was worth as much as everyone else’s.

Nico knew that if he didn’t want to hear those damning words, that told him that he could afford to be selfish, that he had to change the subject. When Jason didn’t move away from him, making Nico’s stomach turn, he asked “Do you love me, too?”

Nico could feel Jason tense, despite the fact that they weren’t touching. Nico bowed his head and opened his eyes. He saw Jason’s hand. It was trembling. Just like how Will’s hands trembled when he was nervous. Nico looked up at Jason’s face, inwardly begging for Jason not to say it.

Jason did. He said it. He said those three words that made Nico’s heart stop in his chest, and made silence wash over all the entire square. “I love you, Nico,” he admitted. Jason’s hands found the sides of Nico’s face and pulled him close. Their lips pressed together, and sparks, much like the ones that accompanied Will’s lips flew for Nico.

When they parted, they were both dazed. Then, a look of horror crossed Jason’s face. The son of Jupiter was looking directly at Will, whose expression was shocked. Jason bit his lip. He looked like he was about to cry.

“Jason…” Jason turned to run, but Nico caught his arm. Years ago, Jason would have just shrugged Nico off and run away regardless, but Nico was so much stronger now, and even Jason’s considerable strength couldn’t make the son of Hades budge. “Jason, don’t,” said Nico.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut, tears trickling down the sides of his face. He pulled at his arm with all of his might and gasped when he realized that Nico di Angelo was far stronger than he was now, even when he wasn’t at his full strength.

Jason turned around and faced Nico. “Please, Nico…” he begged. “Let go of me…” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have…” Jason was openly trembling now. The only people his eyes allowed him to see were Nico and Will. “I’m screwing things up even more… I should just go…”

Nico shook his head and looked at Will. “It’s okay,” said Nico. “Jason,” he said, taking his free hand and doing to Jason’s cheek the same thing he did to Will’s with the second knuckle of his index finger. “It’s okay,” he cooed. Nico glanced at Will again.

“Jason, we talked about this,” said Nico as Will turned back to giving Connor Stoll the medical once-over. Jason blinked, confused. Nico and Will had talked about him? A sparkle of hope made itself visible in Jason’s eyes. Nico couldn’t help but smile. “Just… Let Will and I figure out what we are, first, okay?”

Jason was surprised by the gentleness in Nico’s voice. He couldn’t help but nod. Vehemently. At least this way he still had a little hope to be happy, right? “And then, after…” Nico smiled, sincerely. Jason felt special, that Nico showed him this rare side of his.

Nico’s grip around Jason’s arm loosened. “We can talk about how you fit into the picture…” Jason smiled gratefully at Nico. Seeing the big guy so vulnerable made Nico’s heart lurch in his chest. “Because, Jason, we talked about it…” Nico glanced at Will. “And some part of us fell in love with you, too.”

\----------

Hearing the admission from Nico that _maybe_ they felt the same way about Jason, too, made the son of Jupiter want to jump up and down in joy. However, he didn’t. He tried his best to regain, and then, after, maintain his composure, because it was bad enough he’d kissed Nico and had a breakdown in front of everyone else. He didn’t need his tough-guy bro of Percy Jackson tarnished any further. Not that he cared. He cared more about how Nico and Will cared about him. Still, it was a matter of principle.

“So, Jason,” said Percy. Nico sat down beside Reyna and Jason sat across from her. “You’re…” he didn’t exactly know how to ask the question without sounding like a complete ass. Annabeth had already given him a warning about it, but had conveniently forgotten to tell him how to properly phrase his question.

“No,” said Jason, maybe a bit too hastily. Reyna smiled, amused. Jason looked at Piper, then at Nico, who, surprisingly, was looking at him expectantly as well. “Uhh…” Jason didn’t really know what to say. He’d _tried_ to explain it to Piper, but he hadn’t done a very good job.

“Well,” started Jason, very nearly jumping out of his skin when Will dropped in beside Nico and smiled at him. Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “Well, I’m not… Or at least I don’t think so…” he said. Piper reached over and patted Jason on the shoulder.

“I really did love Piper when we were together,” Jason explained. “But, that didn’t really stop me from falling in love with Will, and, when I realized that, with Nico, too.” Percy’s jaw dropped. Jason frowned at his bro, but decided to let it pass. He supposed it _was_ quite a complicated situation.

“Well, uhh…” Reyna waved her hand dismissively in front of Jason, and he shut his mouth.

“What Jason is saying, Percy, is that he doesn’t really care about cocks and cunts, and that he is more concerned with the person than their reproductive organs,” said Reyna.

Everyone on the table blushed. Reyna shook her head. “Oh for fuck’s sake, guys,” she said. A few shades redder. Reyna was starting to catch it too. Her cheeks had taken on a pink twinge. “You’re all in your twenties,” she said. “If you can’t handle cocks and cunts, you have no business being twenty.”

Everyone turned an even deeper shade of red. Even Reyna. “Okay, fine,” said the Praetor. “Since everyone’s confessing and such…” she said slowly. “Rachel and I are going out.” Everyone on the table was stunned into silence. Even Piper, who, after a few moments, looked like she was going to burst.

“Not a word of this gets out, understood?” said Reyna, looking each demigod in the eyes, with the promise of pain and death if they dared speak. Except Nico. For Nico, Reyna looked like she was asking a favour. Everyone else had the threat of fire and brimstone stabbed into them by Reyna’s sharp glare.

“Y-yes ma’am!” said Percy, turning scarlet as everyone looked at him. “Please don’t hurt me…” he said, trying to vanish from sight. Then, the group started laughing.

Nico shook his head. He’d missed these times. All the silly antics. He would savour this day for years to come. There wouldn’t be many chances to be this happy in the coming months. Years, even, if they were particularly unfortunate.

For the first time since arriving, Nico looked around at the square. It was beautiful, though Nico found it entirely inappropriate that they called the massive circular space a square.

A parade of Corinthian columns made of the same material as the rest of the city ringed the square, although these ones had coralstone capstones. In the last golden rays of the setting sun, the capstones sparkled and rolled with colours.

They were beautiful. The splash of colour against the stark white marble of the city was just right. Marking the very centre of the city, and by extension, the square, was an enormous fountain made of marble, gold, sea-green sea-stone, and coralstone. Nico couldn’t help but marvel at it all.

The coralstone was the highlight of everything. Nico suspected that it was a special material that had been created solely for Theopolis. The coralstone looked just like marble, but as light glanced against its surface, it rippled with reds, blues, and greens of the kind unique to reefs.

At the heart of the fountain, facing the banquet table of the gods, was a massive marble statue of Poseidon, tall enough to rival the Athena Parthenos, with emerald eyes that sparkled in the light of the sunset. There was minimal armour on the statue. Only pauldrons, and a skirt made of pulsating sea-stone.

The Poseidon statue’s musculature was on display for everyone to see. The god’s chest, chiselled in more than the literal sense, was bare. The bulging pectoral muscles, oozing raw masculinity, led to a set of abdominal muscles that would have been enough to humble even the most proficient of body-builders.

Again, Nico couldn’t help but think that Poseidon was a rather attractive god. His mind turned his attention to the image of the god in the hawaiian shirt. The thought of Poseidon being hot evaporated instantly.

The statue’s face was split by a boisterous grin, one that almost perfectly emulated the one that Poseidon had. One of the statue’s arms was stretched to the side, clutching the Trident. The hand that was clutching the haft of the mighty weapon was encased in sea-stone with gold trim. The tip of the Trident’s longest prong spewed streamers of glittering seawater.

The statue’s other hand, which was bare, rested fondly on the head of a hippocampus that was as intimidating as Poseidon himself. The head of the hippocampus was at Poseidon’ waist. The creature’s tail, on the other hand, was wrapped around the most eye-catching feature of the fountain.

At the feet of the massive statue was a pedestal upon which a large marble basin rested. From the basin, a massive fire leaped up high enough to almost brush the hippocampus’ snout. From the looks of it, the basin was laced with imperial gold, celestial bronze, and stygian iron, judging from the sparks that erupted every so often when the flames crackled.

Whenever the flames from the basin surged, they sent burning embers spiralling high into the sky. From the pedestal descended a set of steps and a walkway that looked like it was shielded from the spray of the fountain by a magical barrier. The walkway then opened onto an aisle that ran the distance between the gods’ banquet table and the fountain.

Nico considered the placement of everything and concluded that Poseidon probably enjoyed watching himself tower over everyone as he ate.

\----------

“Stop it!” protested Nico, swatting away Will’s hand. It was the cause of a piece of meat, speared by a fork, hovering in front of his face. “Will Solace!” said Nico. “Stop touching me!” he said, growing increasingly irritated at his boyfriend. Jason was looked like he was trying his best not to laugh.

Nico tried to scoot away from Will, but he quickly found that there wasn’t much chair between him and Reyna for him to move onto. Reyna refused to budge and looked at Nico with a ‘you deserve it’ kind of expression. Nico growled. “Stop touching me, or gods help me, I will gut you.”

“I am not touching you!” said Will, defensively. Will looked around the table for support and got it. Everyone nodded. He technically wasn’t touching Nico. If anything, Nico was the one touching him by swatting away his hand. “I’m waving food in front of your face because you haven’t even touched your plate!”

“I will not have you go hungry at the party that was thrown in your honour,” said Will. They’d just seen Frank and Hazel return at the tail of another Roman delegation, and were just waiting for the two to join them after making the requisite offering to the gods.

Considering how Olympus was closed off, Nico had to wonder if the gods were capable of enjoying the offerings that were being burned in the fire. Nico was distracted from the thought when the fork returned to his field-of-view.

Before he could launch into a tirade against Will, Nico saw a shimmering Lemur glide through a nearby alleyway shrouded by the shadow of a building. Nico blinked. The Lemur was gone. Nico hoped he was just hallucinating. “Gods!” he said, turning to Will and frowning. “I’m not going to go hungry, Solace!”

Everyone at the table rolled their eyes. “Oh is this ‘pick on Nico’ day? I thought it was ‘be happy Nico’s back’ day,” grumbled the son of Hades. “Maybe I’m not even hungry to begin with!” he said. “Did anyone consider that?”

At the very least, Will had the good sense to not try and stick his fork in Nico’s mouth while the latter was talking, because that would have likely resulted in him getting thrown across the square. Nico turned to Reyna to ask something, when he saw another spirit out of the corner of his eye.

Nico saw another. Then another. There were three now, darting in and out of Nico’s peripheral vision. Nico’s dark eyes scanned the crowd and locked on to his father. Hades did not seem perturbed at all. Either his father didn’t care the spirits were there, or his father could not sense them. Nico didn’t like either option.

Nico had been pecking at the food on his plate for some time, but now that the spirits had caught his attention, and had seemingly evaded his father’s, Nico allowed his fork and knife to fall back on his plate with a clatter.

“Bullshit, Nico,” said Will, frowning at him. Nico looked back at Will, startled. Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw another group of Lemures. This time, there were five of them. All five had eyes riveted on the son of Hades.

Silently, Nico prayed that the spirits were here out of curiosity at his return, and not because of that _other_ reason that would be terrible. “I know that healing takes a lot out of not only me, but also the person I heal,” said Will. “Not to mention, you were fading just before that, so I’m pretty sure you’re hungry.”

Jason chewed on his food and swallowed it before pointing his fork at Nico. “You know Will is right, Nico. You should eat. Besides…” said Jason, a small smile twisting the corners of his lips. “You don’t want him to start going all ‘doctor’s orders’ on you again.”

The repetition of that infernal phrase diverted Nico’s attention from the spirits back to what was going on at the table. “I’m not!” he insisted, slapping away the fork. It skittered across the table and fell to the ground with a clatter. He’d used too much of his strength without meaning to.

“I’m not hungry!” he said, again, just as his stomach rumbled. “Ignore that!” he said, as his eyes darted around, wildly. More and more spirits were beginning to come into view. They were all hanging around the outside edges of the circle, as though prevented by some force from coming in.

“Riiiight,” said Will sarcastically. Will didn’t know what was up with Nico’s sweating, but if Nico thought that he was going to get away from eating by finding the nearest exit, Nico had another thing coming. “Open up, Nico,” said Will sternly.

“If you’re not going to feed yourself properly—” he said, pilfering Nico’s unused fork. “I’m going t—” Nico nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the piece of meat attached to the second fork slide across his face, from the upper corner of his cheekbone, down to his chin.

Will blinked, then sheepishly apologized. “Sorry,” he said, picking up the nearest paper towel and wiping clean the streak of grease, gravy, and meat-juice from Nico’s face. Frank had plopped down on the seat beside Will and accidentally jostled the healer’s elbow, which led to the meat being drawn across Nico’s face.

Nico was otherwise preoccupied to care, however. He was busy looking worriedly at the entrances to the square, which were already beginning to fill up with a milling throng of spirits. The demigods that were seated at the very edge of the square were already looking increasingly unsettled.

Nico felt a sudden pulling sensation in the core of his being. He let out a small sound that was so soft only Will heard. It was enough. Will’s nostrils flared and his head snapped in the direction that Nico was looking, and he very nearly fell out of his chair at the sight.

Countless spirits were amassing just beyond the parade of columns that ringed the square. “Nico?” asked Will, shaking his boyfriend by the shoulders. Nico didn’t answer. When Will looked in his face, the son of Hades was pale, and blood was trickling from one nostril.

The rest of the demigods at Nico’s table had jumped up. “No,” croaked Nico. “Sit down,” he said, weakly. They all looked at him like he was insane. “Do it now!” he said, his words so much more forceful than the demigods were used to. They all sat down in surprise.

At the gods’ table, where the deities were all busy discussing the prophecy over dinner, Hades felt the power wash over him. Nico was using his powers again. He looked over to the table where his son was seated, ready to deliver a stern reminder, when he suddenly saw the spirits amassing.

Hades leaped out of his chair and vanished in a cloud of ash and smoke. The Lord of the Dead reappeared right next to Nico, who had taken a few steps away from the table. Will was right beside Nico, supporting him. In his hands, Nico was holding the obsidian dagger from before.

The blade was glowing dully now. “Father,” Nico croaked. Hades shook his head. “No, I know you can’t control them. They’re under my control. Or at least they’ll only listen to me,” said Nico. The thought of shades not under his command unsettled Hades.

“You’re going to have to decide tonight, father. I can’t hold the spirits back as well as maintain the spell for much longe—” before Nico could finish his sentence, he pitched forward, losing consciousness, as the spirits surged through the square and gathered around Nico.

A few moments later, Nico stirred. He straightened and wiped the blood from his nose. The dagger was no longer glowing. The spell had been broken. Slowly, a whisper rose from the gathered spirits. The sound was like centuries-old parchment tearing. Even then, it was dissonant, as though a thousand languages were being spoken, and few of them agreed with each other.

Will looked at the spirits with abject horror in his eyes. He’d seen the Lemures around Theopolis once or twice. The spirits had been curious about the city. However, he’d never seen so many. More than that, there were also the shades of the Greek dead among them.

The sound of the spirits’ dissonant whispers grew louder and louder. Piper let out a strangled yelp as Jason’s eyes turned gold and he rose to his feet. “ _Ave rex reveniens!_ ” he shouted, raising his hand in a jerky motion and pointing at Nico. If Reyna had been afraid before, now she was _terrified_.

The praetor looked at Nico, who was frowning at all the spirits. The static-y rasp of the spirits’ disparate tongues became louder and louder, until, when Jason repeated the words he’d said earlier, all the voices fell together.

As one the horde of spirits shouted “ _Ave rex reveniens!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter is a long one! But shit is starting to happen! Ohnoes! D: What's going on? *gasp*
> 
> Tell me what you think of the talk that Jason had with Nico. The scene at the table! How did you like it? What do you think is going to happen next? :3.
> 
> *grins*
> 
> As usual, leave kudos if you liked it! Leave comments if you want me to read your thoughts. Oh, and send me asks on tumblr! My page is feeling rather lonely. :( [Malkuthe Highwind!](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	14. The Revenant in Limbo

A single word kept rattling around in Hades’ skull. _Tonight_. It was like there was a pair of dice bouncing around in his head. They were about to fall, and the fate of the demigods, at least for the next little while, would be decided.

Hades looked at his son. Nico was struggling to stay upright, braced against Will’s arm. The contact was making him nauseous, but it was better than him ending up on the floor, what with all the spirits that had fallen prostrate around him.

The spirits were bowing in deference to the Revenant King. They showed no such respect to the Lord of the Underworld. For a brief moment, Hades had to wonder. Had his son truly risen above him?

The probable answer to the question did not do much to soothe Hades’ wounded pride, but all the same, the fact that Nico needed _him_ to kill Tartarus at least helped to alleviate the affliction on his ego. For a moment, Hades was sorely tempted to try and wrest control of the spirits from Nico. He wanted to see not only if he could help his son, but if he could best Nico’s influence over the dead.

Hades breathed deeply and tried his best.

It didn’t work, and it wasn’t until Hades realized that Nico had meant they weren’t under his control either that it dawned on him that what he’d done had been an exercise in futility.

Hades clapped a hand on Nico’s shoulder, and looked his son in the eyes. Their dark eyes met, and understanding passed between them. Hades shook his head sadly and squeezed Nico’s shoulder. He could _feel_ the anguish coursing through Nico. He could not help but feel awe that his son was still standing, albeit barely.

“I will do it,” said Hades. His voice had been so soft, like a whisper in the wind, that he did not think it could be heard over the uproarious chanting of the spirits, which sounded like the rustling of leaves in the middle of a thunderstorm. Much to his surprise, Nico nodded.

In that moment, the dice bouncing around in Hades’ head came crashing to a stop. The ringing wasn’t painful, but it was a niggling annoyance in the back of his head. It dawned on Hades that he had just decided to force peace for at least another few weeks, if not a month or two.

“Not now, father,” said Nico. The words came out as more of a croak. “Later,” he said. Gently, Nico placed his palm on Will’s chest and pushed him away. The drakon-skin cloak around Nico’s shoulders pulsed with life as strength seemed to flow into him.

“Will,” said Nico. The son of Apollo looked at him, wordlessly. Will honestly had no words to say. “You might want to sit down,” said Nico with a gentle smile. Will tried to come up with something, _anything_ to protest Nico’s words, but he couldn’t. His mouth worked silently for a moment, before he hung his head and sat on the nearest chair.

Still, he did not take his eyes off of Nico. He didn’t dare. He didn’t want to risk looking away for a moment, and then looking back only to find his beloved son of Hades gone all over again.

“What is the meaning of this, Hades?!” thundered Poseidon, suddenly appearing in front of Nico, in his full battle regalia, at his full godly height. The sea-god was, understandably, upset about the spirits that were littering his square. More than that, Poseidon was upset about having his dinner interrupted.

Nico stretched his hand up toward Poseidon. It looked like he was trying to strangle the god that towered over him.

Poseidon looked down at the son of Hades with a puzzled expression and laughed. “Do you mean to hurt me, mortal?” he asked, thumping his trident on the ground.

“No,” said Nico, softly. “I mean to bring you down to my level.” Nico pulled his arm back. Had Poseidon been normal human height, his whole body would’ve been dragged forward by the neck. As Nico pulled, Poseidon shrank, and, understandably, gained a panicked look in his eyes as all of a sudden, the son of Hades had him by the neck.

Nico shoved his hand away, sending Poseidon stumbling into a group of spirits, that disappeared into shimmering mist, only to reform when the sea-god staggered to his feet, rubbing his neck and gasping for air. “Don’t disturb me,” growled Nico.

Hades had watched the whole scene play out first with morbid fascination, then with growing fear. The boy that stood in front of him was without a doubt his son. But whether or not he was the Nico di Angelo that Hades had known was a different matter entirely.

From the looks of it, the answer to that line of questioning was that he wasn’t. Nico, powerful demigod as he might have been three years past, would have never had the ability to drag Poseidon back to his mortal proportions, and just _shove_ the god away.

“No one disturbs me, father,” said Nico to Hades. There was no question in that voice. No request. It was a command. Nico turned to Will and was surprised to see Will looking at him not with fear, but concern. “Will,” said Nico, softly, his expression turning gentler. “Do you want to help?”

Will nodded, jumping up from the chair. He didn’t know what was going on, but the fact that Nico wanted him to help was reason enough to get his blood rushing through his veins. His expression was fierce.

Nico frowned. He knew he’d offered Will the chance to help, but he’d not been expecting the son of Apollo to accept it. Regardless, he knew there would be no arguing this with Will.

There was precious little time to spare, and it would only be wasted on petty arguments. “Here,” said Nico with amusement that seemed so out of place in the grim circumstance. “Catch.”

Nico made a strange, twisting motion with his hand as he reached into his cloak. In the magical pocket within, Nico’s hand wrapped around the gift that he had meant to give Will later on. Evidently, it had become quickly necessary.

The other gods had already noticed what was going on. They’d already seen what had happened to Poseidon. They were watching warily, but they were understandably loathe to join in. Any mortal that could overcome as much godly power as Poseidon had possessed was definitely not one to be trifled with.

Poseidon himself was already staggering to his feet.

Will barely had time to react when all of a sudden, Nico’s arm snapped out of the drakonskin cloak, sending a rod, about a foot in length, spinning through the air at him.

In fact, Will was surprised when he reached out and actually managed to catch the damn thing. As his fingers wrapped around the rod, he noticed that it looked like it was made of pure white ivory inlaid with Imperial Gold that wound up the length of it.

The moment that the rod had touched his hand, it glowed, albeit briefly. Will felt a surge of energy enter his body. When Will’s index finger closed around the rod, he felt a prick on his finger.

Will looked down at the rod for a split-second and saw a drop of his blood smeared against the ivory. He didn’t have much time to look.

A heartbeat later, Will’s body took over, doing things that his mind could never have imagined he was capable of doing. The staff grew out from both ends, leaving a glowing trail of golden light. Will twirled the staff in his one hand, then he began to spin it around his body, creating mesmerizing spirals of brazen light that lingered in the air for a few seconds before dissipating in a shower of sparkles.

To anyone that did not know the son of Apollo, it would have looked like he was wielding the growing staff as though he’d done so his entire life.

When the staff was fully extended, Will instinctively slammed the butt against the ground, and it rang like a struck bell. Will blinked and looked at the staff in his hands. The foot-long rod of ivory was in the centre of a staff that was about as tall as he was. It was ringing pleasantly in his hands.

Will looked at Nico, completely baffled.

“Don’t act so surprised,” said the son of Hades with a smirk. “It brings out its wielder’s inner warrior. At least the first time it’s used.” Nico’s expression then turned more somber as he felt the pull in the depths of his soul once more. “Protect me?” he asked, softly.

Will smiled, steely determination in his eyes. He nodded. “Always.”

Hades frowned at his son and at the weapon in Will’s hands. It gave off the same repulsive vibe as Nico’s sword, but it wasn’t nearly as stomach-turning as that one. “What are you going to do, Nico?”

Nico looked at his father sadly, and lifted the obsidian dagger in his hands. “No!” said Hades. He tried to run at Nico, to snatch the dagger out of his hands, but he was too slow. He was too late. A perfect circle of black mist appeared on the ground around Nico’s feet.

Hades met an invisible barrier that hung in the air above the circle of mist. He was thrown back a good twenty feet. “Don’t do it, Nico,” said Hades. He didn’t want to see his son die.

Nico raised the dagger, then pricked his thumb with it. “By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes,” he said. Ares and Mars kids were jumping over tables and racing toward Nico, having not thought that maybe he wasn’t trying to destroy them all. Will was pretty sure that the kids were just looking for any excuse to fight.

Will hefted the staff in his hands and looked at Nico, concern in his eyes. Nico looked at Will reassuringly. The son of Apollo nodded and turned back to the campers charging. At least Nico had given him a non-lethal weapon. Will twirled the staff, leaving a trail of light as he spun it, before bringing down one end on an Ares camper. He took a single step, swung the staff the other way, and smacked a Mars legionnaire across the side of the face.

Hades didn’t know what possessed him to protect his son. Perhaps it was fatherly love. Perhaps it was the understanding that Nico would never do anything to harm those he loved. Nevertheless, Hades trusted that Nico knew what he was doing, and he would be damned if he let the other gods lay a hand on his son.. He summoned his helm of shadows and his new sword and stood in the way of Poseidon as the Sea-god lumbered toward Nico. “Hades, get out of the way. That boy is going to do something!”

“Something, brother?” asked Hades with a smirk. He was doing a duty out of necessity, but that did not mean he wasn’t going to relish the feeling of beating his little brother in combat. He was going to _enjoy_ this, if nothing else.

If anything, even if he was mistaken about Nico, he would have been glad to engage in combat with his brother. “Is that really the best you can do? You are not touching a hair on my son’s head.”

Poseidon shook his head sadly and with an inarticulate cry of rage he ran at Hades. He stopped halfway through, realizing he was still human-sized. “What is the meaning of this, Hades?” demanded Poseidon. His powers were being limited. “We should fight as gods!”

“Have you lost your mind, brother?” asked Hades, hefting his sword with a grim expression. “That would kill everyone here.” Poseidon blinked. He had not considered that. “Even so, I cannot fight as a god either. I don’t know what my son is doing, but I trust him. He is family. Which is more than I can say about what you’re doing, brother.”

Poseidon shook his head and rushed at Hades, Trident levelled at the elder Olympian. The Lord of the Dead deftly parried the Trident and struck back. The edge of his blade was met with the haft of the Trident. Sparks flew and metal screamed as the two gods engaged in combat.

Jarred from their stunned silence by the sound of Hades and Poseidon fighting, the demigods at Nico’s table leapt into action and surrounded the boy. Will found himself flanked by Percy, who was looking rather uncertain about what was going on, but still determined to protect Nico. “What is he doing?” whispered the son of Poseidon as his father shouted at him to get on the ‘right side of the conflict.’

“I have no idea,” said Will, shrugging as he twirled the staff, passing it over his back and into the face of one of the younger children of Mars. The weapon rang again as it struck.

“Then how do you know Nico hasn’t turned evil?” said Percy. The moment that he did, he knew he’d said something wrong. _Everyone_ in the vicinity that could, turned and glared at him.

Inside his circle of protection, Nico faltered, hearing Percy’s words. They hurt. He might not have been in love with Percy anymore, but hearing a friend accuse him of having turned evil was nothing short of painful.

Nico’s grip on the dagger tightened. His chanting became louder, earnestly so. He was trying to drown out the echoing of Percy’s accusation in his head.

Will turned on Percy. His eyes burned with fury. He started attacking the son of Poseidon, spinning the staff with such speed, ferocity and strength, that the flurry of blows left Percy winded from the effort of blocking. “I trust him!” shouted Will.

“And if you were a true friend of his,” snarled Will. His hands began to glow. The light surged down the length of the staff. “You would trust him, too!” Will shouted as he thrust the staff forward. At the last moment, he twisted his wrist to deflect _Anaklusmos_ , and broke through Percy’s defenses.

The end of the staff hit Percy square in the centre of the chest and sent him flying a few feet. “Maybe you should listen to your dad and get on the right side of the conflict, Jackson,” said Will. “Or you could give Nico a little credit. He deserves it after all he’s been through.”

A single tear fell from Nico’s right eye as he heard Will’s words. He wanted to reach out and say that Will deserved credit, too, but he could not stop the ritual now. “One for the body,” he said, as he squeezed a drop of blood from his thumb.

Poseidon roared in anger when the blood spilled on the marble of the square. “Two for the soul.” Anger turned to agony as Poseidon sank to his knees. The blood of demigods was a powerful thing, after all. “Three for the essence,” finished Nico. Then, the pain lifted from Poseidon.

“Rise, Revenant in Limbo, from the earth wherein I interred thee. Come forth and do my bidding as the covenant of thy defeat and my mercy hath compelled thee!” said Nico, raising his arms as a massive rift opened up in the floor of the square.

It was so large that it swallowed a nearby table whole. Fortunately, only after all the campers sitting around it had already fled. “Rise, Revenant in Limbo, from the earth wherein I buried thee. Thy master calls thee, do my bidding and from shackles be free.” The entire city trembled, and fine cracks fanned out from the rift in the floor.

Poseidon staggered to his feet and looked down the yawning chasm, fully expecting seawater to be underneath it. Instead, he only saw darkness the likes of which he’d never known save for when he’d gone, with his siblings, to Tartarus to save the Hecatoncheires.

Poseidon was thrown backward when from the depths of the rift, a geyser of swirling plumes of black mist rose to terrifying heights that dwarfed even the massive statue modelled after him that stood at the heart of the square. From the depths of that darkness came strange and terrifying sounds.

The noise of metal scraping against metal filtered through. The deafening clinking of immense chains. The rasp of stone sliding ever so laboriously over stone. The cloud of mist flared, growing wider, as an arm easily as large as Poseidon was currently, came through.

“Traitor!” shouted Poseidon as he realized what or _who_ was coming through the darkness. Another massive arm shot out of the darkness. Both hands grasped the edges of the cloud of mist and pulled, as though there were solid ledges there. A dark, cowled figure pulled itself through, with a cloak, inky black as the mist, that touched the ground. The massive figure had feet wrapped in greaves as large as coffins. They were just barely hidden by the cloak that shrouded the rest of his body.

A shrill scream pierced the night, through the sound of the spirits chanting, and the many skirmishes happening between Nico’s friends and angry and afraid demigods. Nico looked in the direction of the sound. He’d been expecting that it had come from one of the girls. Annabeth, in particular. Except Annabeth was nowhere near the place where the scream had come from. It was Percy.

The creature that had stepped through, its face hidden in the shadows of its cloak, spoke. The sound of its voice seemed as though it was being sucked in rather than being projected. It was disorientating. “What wilt thou have me do, Revenant King?” demanded the Revenant.

“Drive the spirits away,” Nico said. Then, he looked at Will, who was standing there, panting, all the demigods that had dared approach him were on the floor, groaning. The staff was something of an extra, something on the house that the Dragon had offered him as part of their deal. He’d thought Will would appreciate it. Judging from the look of satisfaction on the son of Apollo’s face, he did.

“And,” said Nico, as Will turned to face him. “Make the demigods forget all of this happened,” he said, without taking his eyes off of Will’s. He could see the moment that Will’s heart dropped.

The son of Apollo stepped up to Nico, protected behind his circle of black mist. “Even me?” he asked, softly, raising his fingers to the protective barrier that he knew was invisible in the air. “Why?” Slowly, Will pressed his fingers against the barrier. Nico sighed and let the son of Apollo through.

“Because there’s a war coming,” said Nico. Will frowned at him, confused. If there was a war coming, why didn’t Nico want him to remember any of this? “We only have a few weeks at worst. A month or two at best. I want to try and be happy with you…”

“Oh,” said Will. He thought about it for a moment, as the Revenant in Limbo towered above them. The sun had fully set. In the light of the square, Will’s face looked so much older and worn. “Don’t make me forget,” he told Nico.

“I don’t want to forget anything that involves you,” Will continued. Nico frowned. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “If you’re afraid that knowing this will make me fear you, will make me unable to be happy, then you’re wrong. I don’t fear you,” said Will.

“You should,” said Nico.

“No one ever said I shouldn’t,” said Will with a tender smile. “But I don’t,” he repeated, firmly. “We can be happy for a few weeks or a month or two. If there’s a war coming, then I definitely want to try and make the best of the peace we still have.”

“How do you even know I’m telling the truth?” asked Nico. He didn’t want to sully Will’s expression of trust, but he had to know why Will was taking him up on his words.

“Because you said I would understand what you had to say when the time comes,” said Will simply. “And I don’t understand what’s going on. And it’s obviously not the right time, so I suppose I’m hedging my bets on that you’re telling the truth.” The way Will spoke was extremely disconcerting. It was almost like he was oblivious to the towering figure looming over him.

“And,” said Will, his face turning somber and grim. “I don’t think I could handle the guilt of making you have to deal with this on your own.” Ah. There it was. The selfish reason. Nico didn’t mind. He didn’t want to deal with it on his own either.

That alone was the only reason that Nico hadn’t yet told the Revenant to do his bidding. “Are you sure we can be happy even if you know what I can do? What I’ve done?” Nico asked, genuinely fearful of what Will would say.

“We can damn well try,” said Will with a forced smile. “I don’t know what you can do. I don’t know what you’ve done,” said Will, gesturing at Nico and then at the Revenant. “I’m sure you’ll explain it to me eventually, but right now, all I care about is protecting you. And protecting you from suffering this alone counts.”

There was another tug on the depths of Nico’s soul. She was coming. She was unravelling the layers of glamour that he’d placed on the Revenant. He couldn’t afford to waste any more time bandying. “But I want to protect you, too,” he told Will.

“Then let’s protect each other,” said the son of Apollo. “Besides, it looks like you need more protection than I do.” Nico wanted to shout something about the red lines he’d seen Will trace onto his arm earlier. He wanted to shout that Will needed protecting from himself, but time was running out.

“Make all the demigods except for Will forget that all of this happened,” said Nico. The Revenant solemnly nodded. “This is my will. Let it be done.” That was when he heard them. Nico looked up, drawing Will’s eyes upward as well.

At first glance, the sky looked like it was just a normal night sky, spangled with stars. However, it was easy to forget that the sun had just set. The sky should not have been so dark. The stars were also shifting. Undulating, even. It wasn’t the night sky that hung above them. It was a swirling mass of servants.

The Seekers, Nico had called them, on advice from the Nameless One, the one that had apprenticed him and taught him all that he now knew. “Let it be done!” he said a second time, prompting the Revenant to reach into the depths of the mist from whence it had come.

When the Revenant withdrew its hands, there were two censers, identical in every way save the fact that one was made of Celestial Bronze, and the other was made from black-as-night obsidian. Within each censer was a bed of coals drenched in oil.

The Revenant offered the first to Nico, the Celestial Bronze censer, dangling on fine chains of Stygian Iron. It wasn’t until the Revenant lowered the object in front of Nico that Will realized just how massive it was. The censer was easily Nico’s height, and the bottom part alone was three-quarters as tall as him.

Nico held out his thumb over the open bowl of the censer, and allowed a single drop of blood to fall upon the bed of coals. Instantly, a fire sputtered to life, its brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges rose high into the night sky, scattering the Seekers that had gathered above.

Thick white smoke that smelled strongly of pine needles began to leak from the holes in the censer’s top. The Revenant set the obsidian censer down. The chains came crashing to the marble floor. Will took a step back as the massive figure thrust its hand outward, and swung the censer.

Thick smoke billowed around the Revenant, falling inexorably earthward as the Revenant’s other hand directed its flow. Thick streamers of the smoke, from burning incense, swept large swathes through the ranks of spirits that had gathered. Where the smoke went, the spirits disappeared into the night.

Hades breathed deeply and recognized the smell, and at the same time, he sensed the spirits returning to their rightful places in the Underworld, or the places they haunted as ghosts. Whatever Nico was doing was setting things right. Poseidon looked in awe at how Nico commanded the Lord of the Pit to do his bidding.

As the smoke swept over Jason, the gold in his eyes blinked out and he crumpled. Thankfully, Piper was there to catch him. Soon enough, the whole square was blanketed in smoke, and no spirits remained.

The flow of smoke from the censer died, and the Revenant returned it to the darkness from whence it came. Then, the chains that had fallen to the ground rattled as they rose back into the Revenant’s waiting hands. Once the chains were safely in his grasp, the Revenant lifted the obsidian censer from the floor.

This one, he didn’t set down before Nico. He merely brought it before the son of Hades. Nico smeared the blood from his thumb on the surface of the censer, which, upon further examination, was actually made from one solid piece.

Gouts of sickly green-black fire erupted from the holes in the top of the censer. These ones drove away the Seekers that had re-convened. They were only being kept away from the Revenant by the barrier surrounding the city. Poseidon had been correct in thinking that the borders to Theopolis needed to be closed.

The smoke that poured from the obsidian censer was different from the smoke that had come from the other. This smoke shifted in colour from milky white, to black as the mist that the Revenant had come from, to sickly green like the fire that continued burning within the censer.

This smoke also did not flow like the smoke from the Celestial Bronze censer. This smoke flowed with intelligence. While there was a single great stream of it that flowed down the Revenant’s robes, and pooled at his feet, it did not roll over everything as the pine-needle smoke had.

This smoke sought out its targets. Tendrils shot out from the mass at the Revenant’s feet and crashed against the faces of unsuspecting demigods. Percy was the first to get hit. As soon as he’d inhaled, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he fainted.

Another tendril darted past Will’s face and hit Jason in the face. Will sniffed the smoke as it passed. It smelled faintly of poppies, but at the same time, it smelled, oddly enough, of something that brought forgetfulness to the forefront of Will’s mind. Tendrils continued to shoot out from the mass.

When every other demigod in the square had fainted from the smoke, the smoke pooling at the Revenant’s feet clambered up his legs and back into the censer. Silently, solemnly, the Revenant placed the obsidian censer back into the same darkness that it had come from.

The chains that bound Tartarus melted away, and the Lord of the Pit flexed his whole body. The cloak that hung about his shoulders fell from him, and revealed him in all his gruesome might. Yet, he did nothing to destroy Nico di Angelo, nor the demigods snoring all around him. He did not even pay attention to the gods cowering in their corner.

“You have freed me,” said the Lord of the Pit, tilting his head toward Nico. The imposing figure shrank as the black mist that curled from his body evaporated, and the rift in the floor of Theopolis began to close. “You know I can destroy you…” said Tartarus, his very presence seeming to suck the joy and life out of the air.

“I know very well, Lord Tartarus,” said Nico, with a curtsy worthy of a king’s court. “But you’ve been spoken to, I see,” commented the son of Hades with a smirk.

“I have been spoken to, yes,” said the most ancient, primeval evil. “By the one you call _Nameless_.” Tartarus scoffed at the word. He started laughing. The _protogenoi’s_ booming laughter was bizarre to say the least. “I have come to terms with the fate that has been chosen for me.”

Nico bowed again to Tartarus. Poseidon was seething with rage, but Tartarus ignored the sea-god. “It has been a pleasure pitting my strength against yours,” said Nico. If he’d had a mouth to smile with, Nico was sure that Tartarus would have been smiling back. “It would be a pleasure to fight alongside you, as well.”

Again. Tartarus laughed. “Don’t mock me, child,” said the Lord of the Pit. “These Seekers would destroy you if they had the chance. They won’t.” Tartarus twitched and there was a deafening outcry as the milling mass of Seekers swirling above the city abruptly met oblivion. “Now my death comes.”

“It is for the best, Lord Tartarus.”

The response was cold, and measured. “I need no comfort,” said the Lord of the Pit. “Only a promise,” he asked. Nico warily agreed to make any promise that Tartarus asked of him. “Make sure that he is ended,” said Tartarus. “He has killed my brethren, and it is only right that they are avenged. We are precious few, now. Even fewer after tonight. I do not ask that you do it by your own hand. I merely ask that you ensure it happens. You know as well as I that this is what _must_ happen.”

Nico looked briefly at Jason’s unconscious form, and nodded. “Lord Zeus will fall, and Olympus with him.” Will’s eyes widened in shock. Poseidon stomped his foot in outrage. Hades looked like he was going to be sick. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

“Let it be quick,” said the Lord of the Pit, before laughing and using the two last words that the Nameless One had spoken to him. “For man.”

Nico nodded and unsheathed his sword. “For man,” he agreed. As though bound by a spell, Hades walked away from Poseidon and stepped forward to take the blade from Nico.

The weapon thrummed in Hades’ hands, and for a moment, he considered dropping it. Something, however, told him that it was not possible. “Give it your most powerful memories, father,” said Nico. “Those will give it strength. Painful or happy, it doesn’t matter, as long as the memory is strong.”

Will gasped. He’d _just_ figured out why Nico didn’t remember the night of their parting. Will looked at Nico, only to find the son of Hades looking back at him apologetically. “Why do you need me for this, if all the blade needs are painful or joyful memories?”

Nico flinched. A panicked look crossed Hades’ face. He couldn’t believe that he’d just implied to his son that he could possibly have even more painful memories than a god. Yet, before Hades could explain himself, Nico spoke, softly, “You’re a god. Your immortality has magnified your pain and joy… and I’ve already used much of mine.”

Will walked up to Nico and, against his better judgment, placed a hand on the son of Hades’ shoulder. Nico leaned into the touch and looked back at Will apologetically. “It’s alright,” cooed the son of Apollo, brushing away a stray lock of Nico’s dark hair.

“I know,” replied Nico. He’d come to realize just how much Will was willing to let go when it came to him. Yet, at the same time, he could tell that Will was just bottling it all up. They needed to have a talk again. Soon.

Nevertheless, there were more important matters to think about at the moment: namely, the matter of Tartarus. The blade had begun to hum in Hades’ hands as he closed his eyes. Hades turned to his son and set the sword down for a moment.

Hades walked over to Nico and kissed his son on the forehead. “Remember Maria for me,” he whispered, bringing tears to Nico’s eyes as his father trembled and took up the sword, which had begun to glow, again. “Tartarus,” said Hades, looking at the Lord of the Pit. “Have you anything more to say?”

Tartarus shook his head. “Only this.” The Lord of the Pit raised a hand, but not to strike Hades down. Instead, Tartarus placed his large hand on Hades’ shoulder. “Remember that all we do is for man.” Tartarus placed his hand on Hades’ arm and drove the sword through his breast.

The blade screamed as it plunged through the thick armor that encased Tartarus’ chest. It screamed again as its point was driven through the other side, exploding through, surprisingly, in a shower of brilliant light. “I suggest you look away,” said Tartarus as cracks glowing with the same radiance as the light pouring from his back began to spiderweb across his whole form.

Nico didn’t look away. He watched as the cracks spiderwebbed across the surface of the armour, and devoured it. Hades staggered away from Tartarus and shielded himself from the blinding light.

For a moment, the swirling void of Tartarus’ face vanished, replaced by twisted, but vaguely human features. The Lord of the Pit looked at Nico and smiled, amused. “You never fail, Revenant King,” said Tartarus before his face was consumed by the same light that was overtaking his body.

“To amuse you?” asked Nico. His voice was quiet. He knew that there would be no response forthcoming as Tartarus’ body dissolved into flecks of light that hung in the air for a moment, before rising to the dark night sky. When the last of Tartarus vanished, Nico had to wonder if the Lord of the Pit had meant that Nico never failed to amuse him, or if Tartarus had meant that he never failed. Period.

There was no time for reflection. At around the same time, Will threw his arms around Nico and held him close for a few moments before reluctantly letting go.

“Revenant King sounds _better_ than Ghost King,” said Will. His voice was shaky, but that was understandable. After all, it wasn’t every day that one got to witness primeval evil, immortal by definition, being killed. In that moment of bizarre levity, in circumstance that demanded none of it, Nico couldn’t help but laugh, if only for that: a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GASP* Did that _really_ just happen? OHMYGODS WHAT COMES NEXT?
> 
> ... you might be saying by now. XD.
> 
> What do you think of what happened? Of the demonstration, both explicit and implied, of the extent of Nico's powers? Who is this _Nameless One_ that everyone is talking about? What's with Will and getting blessings that turn him into a good fighter when he needs it? Is it deus ex machina? MAYBE. Anyway. Thoughts! Please! I'd love to hear them. :3.
> 
> P.S. I'd like everyone to realize that here, 14 chapters in, we are _still_ on Nico's first day back. xD.
> 
> P.P.S. I'd also like everyone to know that as of my writing this, Chapter 20 is already written, and we are _just_ getting into the next day. XD.


	15. The Seekers of Night

The sword hummed in the air, still hanging in the spot where it had pierced the breast of Tartarus, where, in one fell swoop, it had ended the immortal life of the _protogenos_. Will’s hug had unsettled Nico’s stomach more than the whole affair with Tartarus, but nonetheless, he squeezed Will’s arm and turned to face the sword with a grimace.

Hades, who’d bent over to shield himself from what he’d expected to be an explosion of divinity of cataclysmic proportions, turned to look at the sword. It hummed with almost-sadistic pleasure in the air. Hades reached out to grasp the hilt, but before he could even touch it, it burned his hand.

“You did what you had to do,” Nico said. He clapped a hand on Hades’ shoulder and grunted in surprise when his stomach didn’t twist like it did when he touched Will. Nico felt his heart sink at the thought that his subconscious couldn’t handle being with Will. He shook his head. There would be time to deal with that later.

Poseidon lay sprawled where he’d fallen earlier, but his eyes flashed with anger, incredulity, fear, and confusion all at the same time. Nico found himself sympathizing with the god. When he’d first been thrust into this whole mess, Nico had scarcely believed it himself.

“I wish I didn’t,” said Hades, softly. The Lord of the Dead brought his hand, scarred in a straight line down the middle of his palm, to his chest. Hades hung his head in sorrow. “Why did I curse the Oracle?” asked Hades. Poseidon blinked in shock. “Why did I have them erase your memories and place you in the Lotus Casino?”

Nico shook his head sadly, realizing what memory Hades had given up to destroy Tartarus. “Maria di Angelo,” said Nico, as though the name was enough to explain it all to Hades.

“Maria?” asked Hades, his voice soft in the night air. “How is she, my son?” he asked, a touch of affection in his voice that simultaneously warmed and broke Nico’s heart. “How is your mother?” Nico glanced at Poseidon for a moment. He hadn’t wanted his father to see his eyes as the welled with tears. The sea-god’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, too.

Nico tried his best to blink away the tears in his own eyes, but they wouldn’t go. He looked over to Will, who was biting his lip. Seeing the Lord of the Dead in such a vulnerable state was almost too much to bear. Nico could see a glassy sheen to Will’s bright blue eyes that he could only imagine was mirrored on his own. “Dead, father,” he said, voice cracking.

“Oh,” said Hades, simply, as a single tear crept down the side of his face. “That’s why it hurts,” he said, raising his trembling scarred hand to his lips. “That’s why it hurts to think about the day that I had them take you to the Lethe. That’s why it hurts to think about the times her lips had touched mine…”

Hades looked at the weapon that was still hovering in the air before him and shook his head sadly, even as another tear fell from his eyes. “That weapon is horrid,” he said. “How can you wield it so freely?” he asked, voice soft.

Nico shook his head. “Freely?” he asked, looking at Will, his expression pained. “Why would anyone want to use that sword freely?” he asked. Nico couldn’t help but feel guilty now that Will knew why Nico didn’t remember the big misunderstanding that had started all of this. “I bear it because I need to.”

Hades nodded in understanding. Nico looked at the sword. A thought crossed his mind. “All the great swords in history had names,” he said, thoughtfully. Nico turned to his father. “Excalibur. The Coward’s Blade, Clarent. Joyeuse. Durendal.”

“You struck the first death with the sword,” said Nico, looking at Hades. “You’ll have its mark for the rest of your life.” Nico walked up to the sword, and it flew into his hand. “Why don’t you do the honour of naming her?” Hades recoiled from the thought, as though it was the worst idea ever.

Regardless, Hades couldn’t resist. There was something in Nico’s voice that said it wasn’t so much a request as it was a command. Hades squeezed his eyes shut and spoke the word that would become the sword’s name and its curse. “ _Ἀ_ _νάθεμα_ ,” he said.

“Anathema,” repeated Nico, his own voice quiet in the silence of the night. The blade in his hands rattled and glowed as the word etched itself into the tip of the weapon, and along its hilt.

The moment the last stroke of the final alpha had been written, power exploded out from the blade, washing over Nico before fizzling out with a whisper.

“It is done,” Nico said. He looked at his father, then he looked at Poseidon. He returned Anathema to its scabbard. The sword screamed, the high-pitched hum filling the night, as it slid into the sheath.

Nico’s expression turned apologetic toward the god that was sprawled on the floor. Whatever had happened that night was needed. Poseidon would learn that thanks, not condemnation, were in order. Nico held out the sword. A plume of mist shot out from the rift in the floor, and consumed it.

When the mist retreated back into the dark abyss from whence it came, the sword was gone from Nico’s hand. He turned to his father, then he looked at Will, and said “I hope we don’t have to see Anathema for a long time yet.” Hades nodded. There was no question. They would see it again when they needed it most.

Hades had felt the power of the weapon. It was immense. Limitless, almost. Anathema bore the mark and craftsmanship of foreign gods, and something so much older than all of them. Hades shuddered to think of what they would need the weapon for in the future.

All the same, he had a pretty good idea for what, or for whom, the blade was meant. Hades met Nico’s gaze. He struggled to understand this burden that his son had taken upon himself, but Hades was not surprised. Nico had always done everything for the sake of the people he loved.

“We must discuss this,” said Poseidon, rising to his feet and frowning at Nico. Hades stepped in front of his son defensively. “There has been enough fighting this night. Let there not be more. I will not harm your child, should he prove that he is not deserving of it.”

“We must convene,” said Poseidon, with a pointed look at Will. “In private.”

It was Nico’s turn to step defensively in front of someone whom he held dear. “Whatever needs to be said, whatever needs to be done, you can do it with Will there.”

Will looked at Poseidon with concern, then at Nico, then back at Poseidon. “I’ll stay out of it, if that’s what you want, Lord Poseidon,” he said. He didn’t particularly want Nico to get smote by the Lord of the Sea. “It’s okay, Nico. You’ll tell me eventually anyway, right?”

Nico shook his head. It was unacceptable. Will had every right to be involved in the discussion. He was the only demigod still standing. That, and Nico had expressed the fact that he _wanted_ Nico there. “Don’t be pressured into backing down,” said Nico. “He can’t harm me.”

Poseidon scowled at Nico. He levelled his trident at the boy. “Is that a threat?” he asked.

“No,” said Nico. The reply was curt. Simple. He said no more on the matter afterwards.

Poseidon thrust the Trident at Nico and frowned when nothing happened except for the drakon-skin cloak coming to life. It looked as though the moment that Poseidon tried to use his powers on Nico, the cloak took a deep breath. The sight was so bizarre, Will had to rub his eyes for a moment, to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things. He wasn’t. The drakon-skin cloak looked very much alive.

Poseidon sighed with resignation and leaned on his trident. “Very well,” he said. “The boy can come.” Poseidon looked at his brother. Hades’ expression was thoughtful. There was blissful silence for a long while. Finally, Poseidon said, with a smirk, “It seems like we have a lot to talk about.”

Hades nodded but said nothing. It was Nico that responded for his father. “We have a lot to talk about, indeed,” he said.

\----------

Thalia remembered the way the first one has passed right in front of her face, slicing right through the Iris-message. Then another one had followed right behind it, grazing her cheek, and leaving a deep gash in her face. She remembered her shriek. It had been rather painful.

At first Thalia had thought it was a bird. Perhaps one of the Stymphalian variety. She hadn’t known what to think then. She still didn’t know what to think. There was one thing for certain, however, and that was the fact that she did _not_ appreciate the ugly gash it had left on her face.

Those were the thoughts that raced through her mind as she spotted another one coming. Then, she realized it was a group of three. It _was_ a bird. Or at least something that _looked_ like a bird. It was the size and shape of a swift, but it was strange.

As Thalia jumped out of the way, she noticed that the creature was not feathered. She didn’t even think it had skin. Instead, its form was dark. It didn’t seem darker than black, but it definitely seemed like it was _deeper_.

The only way that Thalia could process the colour was to compare it to the colour of the night sky when the moon wasn’t out. That was exactly what the body of the creature looked like. Another one soared past. Thalia noticed sparkling pinpricks of shimmering light on the creature’s back. It looked like starlight.

Thalia had not minded the first two. Nor had she minded the ones that followed. However, she was beginning to mind. She saw a group of ten darting through the trees. Clutching her face, she dropped to the ground and shouted to the other Hunters on the forest floor to do the same.

There was a blood-curdling scream from further behind the company, but Thalia could not afford to rise from where she was pressed flat against the earth. Another group had come close on the heels of the one that just passed overhead. Then another. They came in waves. Ten. Twelve. Two dozen. Soon enough they were flitting by in droves.

Thalia was worried for her sisters-in-arms, but could not do anything. She was worried for herself. Blood was gushing rather freely from the wound. It needed to be treated _soon_. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the creatures stopped coming.

Thalia staggered to her feet and dodged the stragglers before calling out. “Is everyone alright?” Most of the responses were encouraging, but inarticulate sobbing filtered through the trees from the back. “What happened?” she called out. There was a scuffle, then a strangled scream.

Thalia dashed through the trees, meeting eyes with some of the Hunters, who looked at her with the same confused, worried look that she was sure she had. The sight that greeted them could not have been any more gruesome even if it tried. The instant Thalia set her sight on it, she had to turn away to not throw up.

One of the girls, the very last one that had taken up the rear-guard, was dead. A slice of her head was missing. Well, missing insofar as it was lying on the ground, cleanly cleft from her head.

The sight was nauseating. There was blood all over the place. Thalia had not even noticed the fact that the girl’s stomach had been ripped open. The shape of the hole matched perfectly the shape of the bird-creature that had wounded Thalia. The girl’s viscera were exposed to the air.

Thalia couldn’t handle it. She shoved her way past the Hunters that were looking with stunned, shocked, horrified expressions. One of the girls walked up to her and started dabbing a paste on her wound. Thalia numbly ate the ambrosia that she was offered. The wound healed soon after that.

Thalia held up one of her arrows to her face. She could see her reflection in it. She traced the line of the gash. It still burned and itched, as though there were an inflamed wound there. It should not have. “We give her a proper burial,” Thalia said stiffly.

No one was going to contest her words, but there were many a Hunter concerned. They could only fall in the midst of battle. Thalia had not even thought of that. Did this girl dying mean that they _were_ in the middle of a battle? Thalia looked skyward, hoping that maybe Artemis would appear with her wisdom.

The goddess didn’t. Instead, Thalia gasped when she saw them. A massive flock of the bird-creatures, countless in their multitude. They made the night sky seem as though it had come alive, the stars shifting about like dark and light in a stormcloud.

In their passing, the bird-creatures were silent. Mute, even. Thalia recalled that she had not even heard the first two coming, despite the fact that as a Hunter, she was blest with acute perception. “Look,” she breathed, and pointed skyward. Her earlier gasp was mirrored by everyone that looked.

“What does it mean?” asked one of the Hunters, face grim.

“It means that something is happening,” said Thalia. That was as much as she knew. Whatever it was, was not good. “Five of you stay here,” she said, eyes widening as she realized that the birds were heading toward the clearing that held Leo, Calypso, and Apollo prisoner.

Thalia shook her head. She’d only had a glimpse of the girl before she turned away, but the gruesome death that the girl had suffered was burned into her mind’s eye. If the birds could do that to an immortal Hunter of Artemis, Thalia could only imagine what they could do to a demigod like Leo, or even to Apollo, in his massively weakened state.

Thalia pressed a golden drachma into the hand of the Hunter that had treated her wound. “Call the other Hunters. Call everyone that’s nearby. There _is_ a battle that’s going to happen, and judging by the number of enemies, we’re going to need everyone we can get.” Then, Thalia paused. She pressed another drachma into the girl’s hand. “Call Theopolis. Ask for help. Any help. We’re going to need it.”

Thalia turned her eyes to the sky, and saw that the flock was still passing overhead. There were so many. So, so many. She didn’t know how the Hunters would be able to deal with this foe. There were only so many of them, and they only had so many arrows.

\----------

Even the gods and goddesses at their table were understandably shaken by what had just transpired. It was, for them, a sobering reminder that the heroes of this age were becoming greater than any that had ever come before them. It was also a sobering reminder that despite their great powers, they could still be killed.

Nico, Will, Hades and Poseidon walked toward the banquet table in silence. They elected not to teleport. Why? Nico didn’t know, but he supposed that they had all simultaneously decided that they wanted to collect their thoughts before any discussion happened.

Once they reached the table, the first of the demigods that had been knocked out were beginning to stir. “Chiron,” said Dionysus, voice booming across the square. The centaur was there faster than Nico could comprehend. “You know the drill,” said the Wine-god, decidedly more somber-faced than he had been earlier. “Volunteers for scapegoat?”

Hypnos raised his hand silently. He was the de-facto scapegoat for whenever large numbers of demigods got knocked out. Well, him and Morpheus, but Morpheus didn’t look like he had any intention of stepping in on this occasion. Silently, Eros raised his hand as well, looking pointedly at Nico, before smiling.

“Did I do the right thing?” said Nico, turning to his father. The two gods approached Chiron. The centaur bowed respectfully. Then, he took the two gods by the ear, and dragged them off toward the hearth at the centre of the square.

Will looked at Nico. Concern was written on his face. His eyebrows were drawn together in a frown. He’d not thought Nico would ever go back to his self-doubting ways, but nonetheless, Will followed Nico’s gaze and saw their friends staggering to their feet, confused. The healer wrapped his hand around Nico’s arm, squeezing his boyfriend in support.

Nico had to fight a wave of nausea that swept over him as soon as Will had shown physical affection. What on earth was wrong with him? He’d been okay with it a while ago. Nico squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

Will frowned at Nico. The son of Hades had visibly paled. “Was it the right thing?” asked Hades. “I don’t know,” he said, turning to face his son, after measuring the expressions of the other gods. Will looked at his hands with distaste and uncurled his fingers from Nico’s arm.

Instantly, the tightness in Nico’s posture evaporated. Seeing that, distaste turned to disgust as Will glared at his own two hands. “Was it necessary?” asked Hades. “I would say so,” he finished, patting Nico on the shoulder. Nico did not react as adversely to his father’s touch as he had to Will’s.

“Really?” asked Nico. His voice was small and uncertain. Nico looked at Will apologetically. He could see the confusion and self-doubt on Will’s face. They would talk again later. He promised that silently, even though Nico himself wasn’t sure how to explain his adverse reaction to Will’s touch. “You think so?”

Athena turned to Nico and smiled at the young man. Athena could tell the face of someone that had led armies before, small as they might have been. Now, she didn’t have the faintest idea what Nico had done in his three years away, but she could see the wisdom shining behind the dark depths of his eyes.

“If it helps any,” said Athena, drawing the eyes of all that could hear. “I believe it was necessary as well,” she said. The look she flashed at Nico was sympathetic and understanding, if not justifiably wary.

“If you had not suppressed knowledge of what had just transpired—” she said. The demigods were a mess. There was a ruckus about it being unfair that the gods got to take bets at their expense. “—this square would be very different. It would be a kicked anthill, if you would.”

Nico pondered Athena’s words. Of course. She was right. Hypnos and Eros were apologizing profusely for their irresponsibility at having a contest to see whether Eros could make all the demigods start making out before Hypnos put them all to sleep. Chiron looked over at the gods and nodded.

Poseidon nodded back. “They’re distracted enough. We can go,” he said. There was no walking this time. The next thing that Nico knew, they were standing back in the chamber with all the gods’ thrones. Will was standing next to him, but keeping a respectable distance.

Nico could practically hear the self-loathing thoughts that were going through Will’s head. He steeled himself. His stomach turned at the very thought, but there was no question that he wanted things to work out between himself and Will, and he couldn’t have Will questioning himself. Nico grabbed the sides of Will’s face and kissed the boy, even as all the strength seemed to leave his knees, and he buckled against Will.

Aphrodite frowned. She could see the distress in Nico’s body, but all the same, she couldn’t help but admire his strength of will. The healer held Nico close for a moment, then let go.

“What was that for?” Will asked, breathless and blushing.

Nico forced a quick smile, then turned away quickly, so that Will wouldn’t see him blanch. “Just a reminder,” he said. “Of what you mean to me and all that…” Nico blushed even as he fought down bile. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

Will nodded, momentarily speechless. The gods were watching them, but when Nico turned back to face him, cheeks tinged with pink, the son of Hades’ intense gaze was _only_ for him. Will couldn’t help but feel special. He smiled, shyly, at Nico. Nico smiled back, trying his best to look as genuine as he could.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw Iris lean over to Zephyrus. The god frowned. Russet-coloured wings fanned out and flapped in consternation as Iris continued to whisper in his ears. Zephyrus’ eyes darted about the room, undoubtedly searching for his master.

Eros had not yet returned. Zephyrus leaned over to Iris and whispered in her ear. The goddess scowled. It would not sit well with the others, especially Eros if the god of the West Wind left without good reason. Nevertheless, Zephyrus jumped from his throne and made to leave.

Aphrodite leaned forward and frowned at Zephyrus. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Eros will return as soon as he is done doing damage control.” At Aphrodite’s words, every head in the room swivelled in Zephyrus’ direction. The god bristled, his great feathery wings rustling in irritation.

It was Iris that popped up. “I received a message from the Hunters,” she said. “I passed it to Zephyrus first because I knew he would be the fastest of the gods here. Apollo is under attack. The Hunter didn’t really know what by. She just said that they looked like black birds with constellations on their bodies.”

Nico’s blood ran cold in his veins, and Will must have seen a change in Nico’s expression, because sudden concern surfaced in those brilliant blue eyes. Aphrodite leaned back, thoughtful. “You should be sending a demigod to help them, Zephyrus. You know this.”

The expression on Zephyrus’ face darkened. “Send a demigod?” he demanded. “And whom would you have me send, Lady Aphrodite? The healer, who can barely stand? Or the son of Hades so sick in his heart that he doesn’t even know it?” Zephyrus spread his wings. “We are not in Olympus. I can use my godly powers to help one of our number.”

With that, Zephyrus vanished and Aphrodite sighed. Of course, the god had been right. Aphrodite merely wanted to inflame Zephyrus’ temper, because the West Wind had always been the most agreeable. “You know what is attacking them,” said Poseidon. It wasn’t even a question.

“My m—” Nico stumbled over his words. He didn’t think it was appropriate to mention his mentor at this juncture. “I call them Seekers,” he said. “They’re the heralds of something evil lying just beyond the horizon.”

“And they are?” said Athena, eyebrow raised in question.

“The pets of Nyx,” said Nico. There was a collective gasp of fear from the gathered gods. They all feared the Night Mother. The Earth Mother was a formidable foe, yes, but Nyx was on a league all her own. Zeus had not feared Gaea, not as much as he’d feared the Night.

“Nyx?” breathed Poseidon, his voice hoarse, the name repulsive on his tongue. He’d not believed it at first, when Hades reassured him of the truth. “She is rising?” he asked, fearful. Zeus was many things. Paranoid. Stupid. Stubborn. Temperamental. Yet, Poseidon knew, that despite his many flaws, Zeus was one thing without question: brave. Almost foolhardy.

“She is rising,” said Nico, nodding. Will looked like he was going to be sick. The rod in Will’s hands extended into something shorter than a quarterstaff, but just about long enough so Will could comfortably lean on it. “She tried to get her forces together three years ago, but I managed to stop her. At least for a while.”

Nico sighed. “I was lucky I stumbled on her plans down in Tartarus. Iapetus and Damasen helped me. We destroyed the fortress she was building. We destroyed the Seekers she had managed to make. We even destroyed something that looked like incubation chambers.” Nico shuddered. The very sight of them had been sickening. He didn’t want to describe them.

“But Iapetus and Damasen told me that she would just rebuild. She was Nyx. She was near Chaos. She could just call up what she needed from her father.” That was their biggest problem. So near and dear to the source of all creation, Nyx would have no issue with loss. She would only recreate what she’d lost.

The gods were listening intently. Some of them nodded, when Nico pointed out the relationship between Nyx and Chaos. It was indeed a big issue.

“She plans to create an army of soldiers greater than the gods.” That was the sole reason for the existence of the Seekers. “She took the idea from Gaea. She wants to create soldiers that are invincible in their home-realms.” The gods frowned at that. They would just remove the soldiers from their home-realms, then.

Nico shook his head. “That’s what I thought at first, too,” he said. Iapetus and Damasen had been collecting intelligence on Nyx for a long time when Nico finally arrived to help them. They had enlightened him on the rest of the plan.

“But that’s why she has the Seekers,” said Nico. The gods leaned in, interested. “You admitted yourselves that our enemies could not be defeated, right?” Poseidon nodded, then waved his hand for Nico to continue. “They’re all spread out so thin that they can never reform consciousness, right?”

Athena looked like she’d just been kicked in the face. Like Iapetus when they had been chopping up Ouranos, which, coincidentally, was the reason she’d figured it all out. “The Seekers are collecting the pieces of their essence so that Nyx can make them belong to _all_ realms,” she whispered in horror.

Nico nodded. He should have known that Athena would figure it out before he could explain it all. “Is that why you had me do it, my son?” asked Hades. “Is that why the Lord of the Pit had to die?” Nico nodded solemnly.

“It was the only way, father. Otherwise, Nyx would have just taken his essence from him. This way the Seekers have to be sent out to painstakingly collect every little piece of Tartarus that they can find.” Will was still reeling from the thought of Nyx rising, but somehow, the way that Nico was talking so calm and collectedly about it all was even more disturbing.

“No,” said Hades, looking at his brother. Poseidon had been about to protest. “My son is right. This way we can delay her for a while longer. I understand now. _Anemoi!_ ” said Hades. The wind-gods looked to Hades.

Their lord was Aeolus, and above him, Zeus, but since the latter was gone and the former was too busy to attend to this meeting, they supposed Hades was acceptable as commander. “Take the winds from the city and scatter them around the world. Let’s make it as difficult as we can for Nyx to collect Tartarus.”

Nico felt a surge of pride in his chest. He had not thought of that. His father was a very clever man. “So I take it that she has managed to rebuild her army of Seekers,” said Poseidon.

Nico nodded. “I was in the heart of the battle earlier this morning.” Will looked at Nico open-mouthed. “Iapetus, Damasen, and I, along with some others you wouldn’t know… we have been fighting Nyx and her forces for the last few months.” Scenes of carnage flashed behind Nico’s eyes.

Tartarus, loyal to him, striding through ranks of inferior creations of Nyx, using the twin censers of bronze and obsidian to cut swathes through the enemy forces. Cuchulainn laying gasping to one side of the battle, a starry arrow stuck through his chest. The immortal would not have died, but Arawn had made it clear, Cu Chulainn would need to return to the Isles to rest.

Cernunnos had allowed Nico to take on the Wild Hunt for the campaign, though the Horned God himself was fighting on a different front, against a similar plight that was facing the Celtic demigods.

The Hunters of the Wild Hunt were unmatched. Nico thought that if they ever met the Hunters of Artemis, that the two parties would strike off an instant blood-feud, if not for the fact that the Wild Hunt was largely male, but for the fact that the two groups would argue about who the better hunters were.

“We lost that battle today. We weren’t outclassed. We were outnumbered. Every day there would just be another army waiting. There was no hope. We did what damage we could before we retreated to tend to our wounded and recoup our losses.” There was only one expression on the gods’ faces: distress.

“Is that why you had to come back?” asked Will, softly, after a protracted moment of silence. Nico nodded solemnly. Will laughed bitterly. “And here I thought you’d come back because you missed me,” he said. There were nervous chuckles from around the room.

“Could you maybe entertain the notion that I came back for more than one reason?” asked Nico. A small smile turned the corners of Hades’ lips at the inside joke, but worry was still written across his face. “And before you ask, you would not know those that helped us because they’re other gods.”

A murmur of whispers ran through the room. Poseidon banged his Trident against the floor, silencing the gods. “Other gods?” he asked. They were aware of the existence of other gods. The Egyptian ones, in particular, they found rather irritating, mostly because of Serapis.

“From the Celtic Isles.”

Another round of whispers travelled around the room. Athena leaned forward and looked at Nico. “Those gods are long faded,” she said. “Ever since that Christian ‘God’ took over the place, the Celtic gods have been driven into oblivion.”

Nico wished he had an answer for Athena that was more than just “They’ve returned.”

Athena sighed and leaned back on her throne. She looked around at all the other gods in the room. “And it seems, so has our long history of problems with the _protogenoi_. Answer me this, Nico. Why are the seekers attacking Apollo?”

“Because his essence represents day as well as Hemera’s does.” Nico laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Nyx is not a heartless mother. She doesn’t want to have to kill her own daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Pretty early update today! I've got a busy day, after all!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but before I get to all the chapter-ly crap that I get up to, I have to acknowledge that I have been remiss in my duties as a writer. >_<. Time and again I have forgotten to give credit where credit is due, and thank my wonderful beta-reader, Legowerewolf, who has been invaluable in catching all the errors I invariably make in my writing.
> 
> At some point in the future, I may decide to do just weekly updates for this series. Why? Because I'm back in university and I don't have nearly as much time as before to write. Either way, I'll try to keep this pace up at least until the end of _The Years of My Longing_.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts about what happened in this chapter! >:] Hehehe. What do you think of Nico leading an army of Celtic immortals against Nyx? What do you think of Nico leading the Wild Hunt? Did you catch what other series was referenced in this chapter? I definitely hope so. >:].
> 
> Anyway, as always, leave a kudos if you liked it. Leave a comment if you want to motivate me. Oh, and throw some asks at my face so I have something to do on Tumblr at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://Malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)!


	16. A Talk with Destiny

Zephyrus had one thing that he should have been grateful for: the damage that Nico’s forces had done on Nyx’s fortress earlier on in the day. The Night had not yet had the time to recoup everything, and as such, her flock of Seekers wasn’t as large as it should have been.

The god arrived to the scene where silver arrows littered the ground, but a still-large cloud of the Seekers continued to pummel the ever-shrinking barrier around Apollo, Calypso and Leo. The protective dome was now small enough that half of Apollo’s cabin had already been torn down by the vile creatures.

Zephyrus looked at the things and decided that they would have probably made for good pets if they weren’t so vicious and nasty. Zephyrus looked at himself, and a thought crossed his mind. He wasn’t very well prepared for any kind of battle. Not at all.

Even if he was, he was one of the gods without an actual weapon to speak of. Sure, the wind-god was pretty sure that he could slam some of the Seekers into the trees and into the ground, but he had no idea if it would even be effective.

Zephyrus conjured up his basket of unripe fruit. It wasn’t the best idea, but at least it was _an_ idea. He could almost imagine the incredulous looks of the Hunters when they saw the winged god flinging unripened fruit at the swarm of Seekers.

Maybe the vile creatures would be hungry and go after the green apples instead? Zephyrus didn’t want to use his precious discus. Nor did he particularly want to reveal his true divine form, because there was no telling if there were any mortals in the vicinity that would be affected.

Well. The god of the West Wind shrugged and made his fruit-basket float in front of him. He dipped his hands into the basket and withdrew a green apple and a green banana. They were both overly-large, almost to a comical extent, but he supposed that bigger was better in this case.

Zephyrus started flinging his fruits at the Seekers. Much to his delight, the ones that did touch his fruit started to dissolve. There was something about god-touched produce, it seemed, that they were weak against. That or perhaps they just weren’t really meant to withstand attacks individually.

Zephyrus paused and blinked. That would definitely explain the swarming. He gritted his teeth. The fruit weren’t even making a significant dent in the population of Seekers that were swirling around the dome. Apollo’s entire cabin was now demolished, but the Valdezinator was surprisingly still unscathed.

The god of the West Wind looked around, and saw the Hunters in their lofty perches, watching him intently, and with a mixture of disappointment and amusement. He shrugged. There wasn’t really much that the gentle West Wind could do. He looked at the Valdezinator. Then he looked at his discus. With a great sigh, Zephyrus flung the discus toward the Seekers.

The heavy metal discus cut right through the milling mass of birds. Zephyrus called it back. It slashed through a significant number of them again. Again and again, Zephyrus lashed out with his discus, but like the fruit, it was dealing significant damage, but not enough to thin the numbers.

Now, the dome had shrunk down to be about four metres in radius. It was still decently large, but nothing compared to the size it had once been. “Turn away!” shouted Zephyrus. The Hunters looked away. The god of the West Wind hoped that there were no mortals in the vicinity with godly lovers because he did not want to have another Apollo-esque spat. He was satisfied with serving just the one god, Eros.

Zephyrus began to glow. For the first time, the Seekers made a sound. They all screeched. The sound was cacophonous and discordant and so loud that Zephyrus heard, afterwards, the sound of breaking twigs and branches as some of the Hunters fell out of the treetops. Zephyrus hoped they would live, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

Slowly, the light pouring out of Zephyrus intensified, until he hovered in the air, wings flapping, and divine radiance blasting out from him. The god could have sworn he heard nickering and the sound of a whip cracking from somewhere, but he could not see much past the sudden mass of shimmering motes of starlight that hung in the air.

Examining his handiwork, and the fact that the Seekers were now all presumably dead, Zephyrus had to reevaluate the way he’d thought of the situation. Perhaps he should have used his divinity earlier instead. That would definitely have saved him time and effort. He shrugged. There was no point in dwelling on that now.

The Seekers gone, Zephyrus landed right outside the border of the dome that was still glowing faintly. He waved at the trio trapped inside. Leo and Calypso waved back. Apollo’s expression darkened and he turned his back on Zephyrus instead. Not that the West Wind was complaining. The Sun-god’s ass was rather delectable.

“We didn’t need help!” said Apollo, his voice loud enough to scare the few birds that had stayed in the surrounding foliage. “We could have handled everything just fine!” Zephyrus could not see Apollo’s face, but he was pretty sure that the sun-god was pouting, and, from the set of his back, had his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Come now, Apollo,” said Zephyrus gently. “You’re not still angry about that whole Hyacinthus—” the moment he said the name, an ancient ache woke in his chest, and Apollo froze where he stood. “—incident, are you?”

The sun-god whirled on his heel and stalked over as close as he could get to Zephyrus. He drew back his arm on his godly side and punched the dome as hard as he could. In its weakened state, the spell didn’t even fling Apollo back. Instead a long vertical crack ran up the side of the dome.

It started receding almost instantly, but the message was clear. ‘ _If I wasn’t trapped here, you would be dead now,_ ’ Apollo’s burning eyes seemed to say. Zephyrus took a step back, just in case.

“Angry?” said Apollo softly, his voice laced with venom and ancient sorrow. “Livid! Furious! No words I can think of can even describe how my heart aches to rip your throat out for what you did to my prince!” The way that Apollo slipped into Ancient Greek, and his old flowery way of speaking was heart-wrenching. Apollo’s voice cracked.

Zephyrus couldn’t help the tear that rolled down his cheek.

\----------

“What do you propose we do?” said Poseidon. The sea-god’s voice was thin and stern. The words that he spoke had a measured cadence to them, as though he was trying his best to not seem too much the antagonist. If Nico had not known better, he would have said that Poseidon was playing the politics of the room, but Poseidon was Percy’s father, and he highly doubted that Poseidon had the capacity for politics.

Hades, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Poseidon’s method was crude. He was trying to intimidate Nico. He was failing rather miserably.

“Since you seem to know more about this threat than any of us—” The sneer in Poseidon’s words was palpable. The rest of the chamber was silent. None of the gods present were willing to miss out on even the slightest moment of what was going on. “What do you recommend we do?”

Nico looked at Will. Will jumped. He’d been staring at Nico for the last couple of minutes, just _barely_ processing what was being said. A small smile tugged at the corners of Nico’s lips. Then a sparkle came to life in Nico’s eyes. It told Will that something amusing was about to happen.

Although, once Will pondered the matter, he realized that what Nico found amusing wasn’t necessarily humorous. Will watched as Nico looked Poseidon in the eye. Then, he looked at his father. Hades’ look turned grim. Then, Nico looked at Athena.

One word was all it took to incite chaos in the chamber. “Nothing,” Nico said.

The response from the gods was _uproarious_. Will winced. He’d never seen an actual courtroom fight, but he supposed that if he ever did, it would look very much like this. The gods were all shouting over one another.

Various synonyms of “unacceptable,” and guttural noises of outrage were thrown about. Nico was grinning. It took a moment, but Will started to smile, too. At least until the gods started bandying about propositions for how to best execute the blasphemous son of Hades. The very thought of Nico getting executed made Will sick to his stomach.

Poseidon banged the Trident against the marble floor of the chamber. Godly power arced from where the weapon struck the floor. Poseidon’s divinity seemed to flare as the entire chamber shook and shuddered. Silence was restored, if only temporarily.

The gods might not have had a king in Theopolis, in the absence of Zeus, but the fact that the city was Poseidon’s, they had all agreed to defer to his authority. “What do you mean, nothing?” Poseidon’s voice was incredulous. All the same, something told Nico that the god of the sea was also somewhat impressed that Nico had had the guts to tell the gods that they were to do nothing when they had just been told an army was being raised for their destruction.

“You mean to tell us,” said Poseidon, the begrudging impression in his voice evaporating as he turned to face Hades. The Lord of the Dead regarded his brother with an impassive look. Hades was not going to denounce his son. He’d already heard Nico’s reasoning. He did not need any more convincing on the matter. If it came to a vote, he would vote for doing nothing.

“That we are to stand here—” said Poseidon, gesturing at the chamber around him. “—doing nothing—” The Lord of the Sea openly scowled at Nico. “While the Night Mother raises an army against us?” Poseidon’s face was demanding an answer, but Nico just silently shook his head.

“Was this just an elaborate ruse, then?” said Poseidon. Anger was creeping into his voice. He was quickly losing patience with this particular son of Hades in front of him. Nico shook his head quietly. Poseidon bared his teeth. “What, then, do you mean, runt?” he said. Hades frowned at the insult. Nico didn’t pay any attention to the taunt.

Instead, Nico turned his attention to Athena. The goddess had been pensive for the last few minutes. Her expression was thoughtful, but it quickly turned into a frown when every head in the room swivelled to watch her because of Nico’s command of their attention.

Well, most every head in the room. Will was torn. He couldn’t stop staring at Nico, but some part of him wanted so badly to see what Nico was seeing, if only because the son of Hades was being so cryptic about it.

Athena grumbled silently to herself. It would have looked neither composed nor wise to air her frustrations with being the centre of unwanted attention. Did they _really_ expect her to finish thinking about something that was of this magnitude in the space of _seconds_? Athena took the time to look at Nico once again.

Much to her surprise, where she’d expected the fierce, determined look of a commander, or the expectant look of someone that was waiting for an answer, instead, she saw a look of pleading. The way that Nico di Angelo’s vulnerability came through his eyes without showing in his body language tugged at Athena’s heart.

The goddess of Wisdom rose from her throne. A hush swept through the gathered gods and they watched her with bated breath. Athena looked at Nico once again and said, with a sigh, “We do nothing.” After Athena’s answer came a pregnant pause.

It was in that moment of silence that Nico turned to face Will. The healer’s mind had finally caught up to what was going on, but that did not mean that he was any less confused than the rest of the gods. He could not fathom why Nico and Athena would want to do _nothing_ about the looming threat.

Will remembered what Nico had asked him before the other demigods’ memories of the night were wiped. “ _Are you sure we can be happy even if you know what I can do? What I’ve done?_ ” The realization hit Will so abruptly it almost felt like physically running face-first into a brick wall. Will had answered that they could be, and he had every intention to make it so.

Will understood now. Nico didn’t want to do anything yet not because it was hopeless to try and stand against the Night, but because they had weeks, if not months to spare.

Nico wanted to try his hand at this whole being happy thing. Will would only be too glad to oblige. Will looked at Nico and smiled. His heart skipped a beat when Nico returned the smile, relief written across his face.

Will tried to reach for Nico with his hand, but momentary terror seized Nico, and he shied away. Will frowned. Something was wrong. He didn’t appreciate the fact that right now, in audience with the gods, he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t try and ease whatever it was that was ailing his boyfriend.

The rather colourful chorus of arguments, expletives, and calls for the decapitation, dismemberment, quartering, disembowelment, or any combination thereof of Nico, and, if possible, Athena, grated on Will’s nerves. Hades was looking angrier and angrier by the minute.

Finally, after a good minute of chaos, Poseidon decided to be proactive. The sound of the Trident striking the marble floor for the third time that night rang in the chamber. “Silence!” said Poseidon, his voice booming across the gods, many of whom were no longer in their seats. “Allow Athena to explain her judgement and why she agrees with the demigod.”

Athena looked at Poseidon and narrowed her eyes. She dipped her head in grudging respect. “It is too soon,” she said. Her voice was calm and collected. Some might argue it was also downright condescending, but if the gods caught it, they didn’t say anything. “This news comes too soon after the last war, and it has come at a crucial point in time.”

Athena then turned her gaze from Poseidon to each and every one of the gods and goddesses that were gathered. “The demigods deserve some much needed rest. They deserve some measure of happiness.”

Will and Nico looked at each other. A smile passed between them. They’d waited for this chance for three years. They had toiled for it. They’d paid blood and sweat and tears. They were going to grab this chance and try to make it work. That much, they both knew, even if it meant being in Athena’s debt.

“It has been three years since the defeat of Gaea, but where do we gods and goddesses of Ancient Greece stand?” Athena’s voice was clear, but her intentions were less so. “We stand a pantheon divided. Our home is _closed_ to us. The demigods can feel it, too. We may have defeated the enemy, but we’ve brought no peace to ourselves. No rest. Only more conflict.”

“Nico—” Nico felt grateful that Athena chose to use his name, instead of the title ‘son of Hades’ as Poseidon so contemptuously put it. “—says that we have a few weeks at worst. A month or two at best.”

Athena looked at Nico, then at the gods and goddesses again. “I say that instead of preparing for the war, instead we _finish_ Theopolis.” There was a murmur from the rest of the gods. “We are on the cusp of opening the city to the demigod public for good, instead of just for special occasions like today _should have been_.”

Athena looked pointedly at Nico. He still wasn’t going to escape the blame, but he graciously ducked his head in apology. It was true. It _was_ his fault that the day wasn’t as good as it should have been. He was not as strong as he’d hoped. Still, it was beyond time for assigning blame. They could only move forward now. Destiny had been set in motion.

“We raise morale. We open the shops. We allow the demigods their much-deserved respite even if it is for just a moment.”

“With the help of your cyclopes, Poseidon, we can finish the bridge come morning.” Poseidon shook his head in disapproval. Athena had gone mad. With war on the horizon, she instead wanted to rest? She wanted to give the demigods respite? It was madness.

“You will not do it?”

“I will call for the cyclopes,” Poseidon said, after a moment of grudging silence. “But I do not approve of this plan.” The god of the Sea looked around at the gods and goddesses, major and minor, and realized that the major gods were all looking at him expectantly.

Poseidon could tell that the most influential members of this ramshackle court that they had put together were on Athena’s side. “Shall we put it to a vote?” he asked. His voice was soft but it was projected through the chamber.

The immortals unanimously agreed that the matter should be put to a vote. “Let all those who believe that war preparations need be done stand for it.” Poseidon was already on his way off of his Throne before he even finished speaking his words. Minor battle deities were on their feet. That was it.

“Let all those who believe that our children deserve their rest rise,” said Athena. Hades stood, his robes flowing around his form. Athena did the same. One by one, gods and goddesses with children stood. Those that didn’t, but had favoured demigods also rose.

“The matter is decided,” said Poseidon stiffly as he shifted uncomfortably on his throne. There were times when he wished that they had the same system of governance as on Olympus. Zeus would have never allowed them to just stand idly by as their very existence was threatened. The thought gave Poseidon pause. That was pretty much what Zeus had had them do during the battle with Gaea.

“Besides,” said Athena, looking at Poseidon as she sat back down on her throne. “The city is easily defensible. Once we finish it, we can fortify, and in case anything happens to the camp, we can retreat to Theopolis.”

Poseidon looked sideways at Athena, suspicious, for a moment, of her intentions. He pondered the matter. He had to concede the argument to Athena. She was right. The sooner they got the city open and occupied, the better they could plan defenses.

\----------

Thalia came out of nowhere. She frightened Zephyrus. The god of the West Wind had been so absorbed by the heartache that seeing Apollo had brought to the surface. It was like old wounds, long buried, were excavated and forced open again. His heart bled, though surprisingly not only for Hyacinthus, but also for Apollo.

Zephyrus supposed that millennia of being a servant of Love himself had tempered the anger that Zephyrus had felt for Apollo. He felt pity that Apollo had never had the same chance. He could still see the same betrayed outrage in Apollo’s eyes as had been there all those thousands of years ago.

“Lord Zephyrus,” said Thalia. The god of the West Wind whirled around and almost decapitated Thalia with an unripened pineapple before he realized that she was one of the Hunters. “Apologies for sneaking up on you,” said Thalia with a grimace.

Apologizing to men was very much a taboo among the Hunters. Still, now was not the time to be holding on to _de facto_ traditions. “Lord Apollo,” said Thalia, politely ducking her head in Apollo’s direction. “Is everyone alright?” she said. Apollo blinked at her owlishly, seemingly uncomprehending of her words.

Leo piped up with an answer, even though it wasn’t a very good one. “See?” he said. “This is what I meant, Calypso!” Leo frowned and placed his fists on his hips. “When someone might be hurt, you ask if they’re alright! It’s social _etiquette_.” Without thinking, Leo added. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“No, but I _was_ living on an island in the middle of nowhere, Leo.” Calypso snapped. She’d not meant to be so aggressive, but the matter of her imprisonment on Ogygia was still rather sensitive. Leo gaped at her.

“Sorry,” said Leo. The apology was downright sheepish. “Anyway,” said Leo, forging on with his diatribe and more or less ignoring Thalia’s question. “You don’t tell them to suck it up because they didn’t _really_ get hurt that much!” Thalia opened her mouth to speak, but Leo held up a hand. “What if I _was_ hurt badly?”

Calypso rolled her eyes. She looked at Leo flatly. “Really?” she said, planting her own fists on her hips. “You’re still going on about that?” she said. “If you were _actually_ hurt badly, then I wouldn’t tell you to suck it up. I’m not stupid, Leo. I can tell a serious injury when I see it.”

“You could at least show some concern, woman!” said Leo. His voice was getting higher and higher, though not necessarily louder. Calypso found it quite cute on some days. It was just annoying on this one. It was almost as though some part of Leo was warring with himself to _not_ shout at Calypso and compensated by just raising the pitch instead of the volume of his voice.

“And you could at least try to not make everything about yourself, Leo,” said Calypso. Her voice was snappy. This time, intentionally. Leo took a step back.

“For goodness’ sake, Leo,” said Calypso. “You’re being irrational.” The immortal took one step toward her lover and pressed her finger against the tip of Leo’s nose. “We get attacked by gods know what, and you decide to get mad about something trivial that happened this morning?”

Leo blinked at Calypso. “Well,” he said, shrugging. “When you put it that way, it does sound kind of stupid…” Calypso harrumphed and pressed her finger harder on Leo’s nose. “Okay, okay, it’s a lot stupid! I’m sorry!” Thalia and Zephyrus cleared their throats at the same time. Calypso and Leo looked at them as though seeing them again for the first time.

“Oh, sorry,” said Calypso with a cordial smile. “Yes, we’re alright,” she said. “You, Zephyrus?” The god of the West Wind nodded. “Your Hunters, Thalia?” Thalia turned a pale shade of green. She wiped away a tear. “Oh.”

“It’s okay,” said the daughter of Zeus. Whether it was to reassure the people inside the dome or herself more, she couldn’t really tell at this point. “It’s part of the job,” said Thalia. “She died honourably.” The lie was heavy as lead on Thalia’s tongue, but it was the only way she could cope with what had happened.

Thalia jumped when she felt Zephyrus’ hand clap on her shoulder. She shivered when she felt the weak draft of wind as Zephyrus’ russet-coloured wings fluttered. “Go,” said the West Wind. “Make sure her burial is proper. I can take care of them.”

Thalia frowned. The way that Apollo was looking at Zephyrus was making her uncomfortable. There was a memory lurking in the back of her head. There was something about a rivalry between the two. She couldn’t help but feel as though she needed to stay or else something terrible might happen.

However, Thalia recognized that Zephyrus was right. As lieutenant of the Hunters, she was duty-bound to make sure that the girl that had died would get a proper funeral. She looked with concern at the two gods. Well, the god and the half-god, now.

After a pregnant pause, Thalia turned to Zephyrus and nodded. She took off in the direction from where she’d come.

Apollo scowled at Zephyrus. “You must be happy,” said the son of Leto bitterly, as he drank in the sight of the man that had torn away the boy he’d loved from him.

“I’m trapped here,” said Apollo. The half-god seemed to have forgotten all about his other companions in the dome. His eyes were riveted only to Zephyrus. Sharp blue eyes followed his every motion. Zephyrus felt as though Apollo was tracking _every_ feather in his wings.

“Probably for all eternity because the damned instrument isn’t in here anymore.” Zephyrus blinked. Instrument? There had been no talk about an instrument. “Oh, you don’t know?” Apollo’s words were sour and sarcastic. “Father locked me up in here until I can learn how to play that fucking machine,” he said, pointing at the Valdezinator, standing unharmed in the remains of the little log cabin that Apollo had built.

“You’re the god of Music,” said Zephyrus. He measured his words. Apollo also, unfortunately, took after the other gods in that very little was needed to hurt their pride. “I’m sure your many masterful talents will ensure your swift escape.”

Apollo walked up to the dome and slammed both his fists against it. This time, the cracks didn’t spread nearly as far as the first. “Do you mock me, Zephyrus?” asked the god of Music and Prophecy. “I have had that godsdamned thing for three years and I haven’t learned how to play a single note on it.” Apollo snarled.

“Masterful talents my ass, Zephyrus,” said Apollo. “Admit it.” Apollo spat at the dome, his spit fizzling when it hit the magical barrier. “This is pleasing to you, seeing me reduced to a talentless freakshow.”

\----------

“Then we are done here?” asked Poseidon. He looked at Nico, though his gaze was anything but friendly. The son of Hades shrugged. There weren’t any more imminent threats that he knew of, though he would not hesitate to tell the gods if there were. “We are done here,” said Poseidon.

“Return to the festivities,” said the god of the Sea and patron of Theopolis. “But don’t…” Before he could finish his words half of the room was already empty, and the gods were back in the square, at their banquet table, enjoying the food. “…reappear all at the same time.”

Hades chuckled and patted Poseidon on the shoulder before rising from his throne and walking to Will and Nico. “One would think three years would be enough to get us all on the same page,” said Poseidon. “It’s not Olympus, after all, and there’s no position of power to be fighting over.”

It was Athena’s turn to laugh. Mirth overflowed her normally calm demeanour. It was as though Poseidon had just made the most humorous joke in history. “We haven’t been on the same page in thousands of years, uncle,” said Athena. “To sincerely believe that that would change in three years is an act of foolish optimism.”

Nico wanted to say otherwise, but he was pretty sure he’d reached his daily limit of godly patience-testing. The drakon-skin cloak was great protection, and all, but it was highly dependent on blood magic, and Nico didn’t have the energy to spare to renew its defenses.

The last thing that Nico wanted was to get vaporized on the spot, or turned into something else entirely. Nico looked over his shoulder and saw Persephone. He _really_ didn’t want to get turned into a plant again. “Father,” said Nico with a courtly bow.

“Nico,” said Hades. The humour was palpable on his words. Poseidon and Athena looked at Persephone, Hades, Will and Nico. They decided that it was better to leave the small group to some privacy. The two gods vanished, though Nico doubted that it was to go back to the festivities.

Doubtless, Athena and Poseidon already had something planned. That, and Poseidon was likely going to be calling for the cyclopes so that the city could be finished come sunrise. “No need for the formalities now. We are all family here.” Nico looked at Will and blushed. The son of Apollo was also red in the face.

“I’m…” Will said with a slow and measured tone. “I’m going to go…” Hades had after all said that they were family, and Will was _pretty_ sure that _he_ wasn’t family. Before Will could get very far, he felt a bony finger hooked into the back of his shirt.

Hades pulled Will back to his side. “Not family?” said the Lord of the Dead. He looked at Persephone and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Do you really despise your potentially future father-in-law that much?”

Will and Nico turned even redder. Persephone hadn’t thought it possible. Perhaps it was about time she and her mother had a talk about inventing a gay demigod blush-coloured fruit. “F-future father-in-law?” sputtered Nico, edging away from Will both so that his father would stop picking on them, and to ease his discomfort at being so close.

“What?” said Hades with a laugh. He reached out with his other hand, the one not hooked into the back of Will’s shirt, and grasped Persephone’s hand. “Do you not think I know a good catch when I see one, my son?”

Persephone swatted her husband on the shoulder. It was almost playful. Nico watched the two interact and realized that something had changed between them. It was almost as though they were not just a married couple now. It was almost like Hades and Persephone were _friends_. “Stop embarrassing the boy, Hades.”

Hades turned to Persephone and smiled that small smile of his. “Then stop avoiding a cleverly disguised compliment, Persephone,” said Hades. “I’m _sure_ that you are wondering why my relationship with Persephone seems much healthier these days,” said Hades. There was a chuckle in his voice that still sounded _extremely_ unsettling for Nico.

Will looked at Nico. The son of Hades caught the look from the corner of his eye. _“Don’t ask!”_ Will said with his eyes. Nico was rather tempted to ask, now that Will was looking at him with such a pleading gaze.

“Why _do_ you two seem happier and closer, dad?” asked Nico. Persephone looked pleasantly surprised at the term of endearment that Nico had used for his father. Losing Nico had taught Hades not only to be a better father, but also to be a better husband. Hades had learned to express his love better, because the one thing he’d regretted most during Nico’s three years away, was not being able to tell Nico that he was loved before he vanished and was lost to Hades.

“Well it all started—” Hades began to talk, but something strange was going on. The light in the room was flickering. “—when—” Nico could have sworn that his father’s voice was getting slower. Almost like it was passing through molasses. Will groaned, but the sound seemed so slowed down it was drawn out for the better part of ten seconds. “—Persephone and I—” Something was definitely up.

That was when he saw them standing by the entrance to the chamber. Three old women. That the Fates had appeared to him for the second time in three years could not possibly mean good things. They hovered there in the air as his father’s story played out in extreme slow motion.

They looked at Nico expectantly, and for a short eternity, they only stared at each other. It wasn’t until Atropos hooked her finger and beckoned him closer that Nico realized that the crones wanted to speak to him. Far more terrified than he had been, facing the armies of Nyx, Nico approached the Fates with caution.

At first he didn’t notice, but as he got closer, the effect became more pronounced. With each step he took, the Fates became younger and younger. Until, when he finally stood in front of them, Clotho, Atropos, and Lachesis were radiant young women about his age.

“Fate is always ugly when you look at it from afar,” said Clotho, though her voice sounded disparate, as though three different women were speaking through her. “But as you get closer, you come to accept it,” said Atropos. Nico realized that the Fates were speaking through each other. “And in the end, its design becomes clear. It is beautiful” said Lachesis.

Nico was at a loss for words. He’d never heard of demigods getting to talk to the Fates before. “Come walk with us, son of Hades,” said the three women in unison. “We have much to speak of.”

The first thought Nico had was not that it would be rather strange walking through Theopolis with the Fates, it was that it would be odd and somewhat uncomfortable to be walking through Theopolis, at night, with three women. Three voices sounded in laughter. “Very well,” they said.

The Fates shimmered and in their place stood one woman that bore all of their features simultaneously. Her face was difficult to look at. Nico didn’t even try to comprehend when he first glanced at it. “Shall we, little one?” said the Fates, gesturing to the city beyond the chamber of the gods.

Nico nodded, silently.

“So, we take it that you have met him?” asked the Fates. Nico blinked. He could not imagine whom he could have met that the Fates would have such interest in knowing about, and did not already know about. Then, he realized who.

“Ah, yes, the one you call the Nameless One,” said the voice that some part of Nico instinctively attributed to Atropos. “Nameless indeed,” said the voice that was Clotho. “That old oaf simply has too many names to give them all,” said Lachesis. Nico could almost hear the chuckle in their voices.

“How is he?” asked the three voices in unison. Nico thought about what to answer. He settled on saying that his mentor was well. “Good, he is well,” replied the Fates almost as soon as he’d thought of the answer. “Yes, we can tell what you are thinking,” they said.

“That is not why we have come” said the Fates. “We have come to warn you. We may not be under the power of Zeus, and can thus leave Olympus freely, but he will be looking for us. Do you understand, son of Hades? Good.”

“Then listen, and listen well, because this is your only hope of saving us all.” Nico did not like the sound of that. He was willing to make sacrifices, but he was just about done with them. The Fates laughed, their voices musical. “You will need to do no sacrifice, but from this day forth, many others will.”

“You, child of Death, should understand better than most that some deaths are _not_ to be prevented.” The Fates stepped in front of Nico and revealed to him a single strand of yarn. “You will break his heart like he broke yours, but more than that, you will deprive him of the eternity that he was promised.”

A chill ran down Nico’s spine. He would break Percy’s heart? There was a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. “You will do this with no doubt in your mind, but agony in your heart, because what are two lives compared to the world?”

Those last words didn’t help the clamminess in Nico’s hands one bit. The Fates raised the thread in front of Nico. Atropos brought her shears to the yarn and snipped it. Instead of just being cut and falling, the thread unravelled as though it was being unmade.

“Oblivion comes,” said the Fates. Then, they vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's this Tuesday's chapter!
> 
> Sorry it's a little bit late! I've been rather busy! :3. I hope you liked this chapter. <3\. I'd like to know what you think.
> 
> What do you think of the encounter with Zephyrus? Of the way that his presence triggered something in Apollo, in his emotionally vulnerable state? What do you think of Nico's confidence in the face of the gods? What do you think will happen next? What do you think of what the Fates said? Please! Comment your speculation. >:].
> 
> As always, leave a kudos if you like the story! Oh and I demand that you send me asks on tumblr! My tumblr is rather lonely these days! [Malkuthe Highwind](http://Malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask) needs you! Yes, you! <3.
> 
> I love you all, and I'll see you on Saturday. <3.


	17. A Song of Sorrows

Zephyrus frowned at Apollo. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. It was almost like there was a beast there that had not reared its head in so many years. It did so now. His heart fluttered in his chest. “No, this isn’t,” he said. His voice was kind. Gentle.

Zephyrus was not known as the most favourable of his brothers, the _Anemoi,_ for no good reason. He was the most favourable because he was the gentlest among them. He was neither as hot nor as cold as Notus and Boreas. He was also not as gloomy as Eurus.

“By Olympus,” said Zephyrus, settling his Celestial Bronze discus in his basket of fruits. “Why would I want to see one of the gods laid low by the pettiness of our king?” he asked. In truth, some ancient part of him found great pleasure in seeing Apollo like this. It was the same part of him that had been jealous when Hyacinthus chose Apollo over him.

Yet, looking upon the god that history had made out to be his greatest enemy, Zephyrus couldn’t help but think that Hyacinthus was right in choosing Apollo. Even in this form, seemingly as young and sprightly as any of the campers in Camp Half-Blood, Apollo was possessed of a masculine beauty that was difficult to deny. The godly heart beating in Zephyrus’ chest skipped a beat again.

Apollo bared his teeth at Zephyrus. “Because you _hate_ me,” he said. Apollo spat on the ground.

The word slipped from Apollo’s lips with such acid and vitriol that it almost sounded like he was hissing. “You’ve always _hated_ me,” he said, eyes flashing with anger. “You were _jealous_ of me. You _killed_ Hyacinthus!” Apollo slammed his fists against the dome again. The barrier cracked, but did not give.

Apollo shook his head from side to side. “You should be happy!” he said bitterly. “You took my lover away from me—” the words stung. Zephyrus had loved the prince, too. “—and now you get to see me humiliated by my father because of something I didn’t do!”

“I’m a pathetic loser!” Apollo was trembling. “I’m a pathetic loser, and that should make you happy because you _hate_ me and all you’ve ever wanted to do was take away _everything_ that I loved!” Apollo banged his fists against the barrier again. “You and your master both.”

Zephyrus took another step back. He’d not expected Apollo’s fury to still be so fresh after all these years. The ages had not done much to dull the agony of the half-god. It had done little to temper his fury. “I do not hate you, Apollo,” Zephyrus whispered as he watched Apollo’s hair of fine-spun gold fall over the half-god’s face.

“I _was_ jealous,” said Zephyrus. “I _was_ rash.” The West Wind brought his basket closer to his chest. There was something precious in there that his master had given to him. “All the same,” he said. “I _loved_ Hyacinthus, too.”

Apollo gritted his teeth and let loose a scream of rage and frustration. The flesh on his mortal hand sizzled against the magic of the barrier, but he didn’t care. That pain was as insignificant to the pain he’d felt when Hyacinthus had died at Zephyrus’ hands, as an ant was to a Titan.

Apollo looked up at Zephyrus. His eyes were watery with tears. His face was contorted with millennia of pent-up hurt and grief. Yet, at the same time, there was such hatred in them, that Zephyrus took another step back.

If looks could kill, then there was no question that Zephyrus would have died then and there. He didn’t. Apollo was not Balor of the Evil Eye, and Zephyrus still stood for only that reason. Still, the intensity of loathing in Apollo’s eyes made Zephyrus’ body tremble, and made his knees feel like jelly.

“You _loved_ him?” said Apollo. His tone was incredulous, but his voice was loud, booming, and angry. His knuckles were turning white, but still he pressed his clenched fists against the prison that kept him from strangling Zephyrus. Apollo did not tremble. He _shook_. Tears fell freely from his eyes.

 _“How could you have ever loved my prince?”_ Apollo’s voice got impossibly louder. It was the voice of an angered god, without a doubt. His divine side was glowing with golden radiance fuelled by his fury. _“You_ killed _him! How could you kill someone you love just because you’re jealous?”_

Zephyrus looked into Apollo’s eyes. He called up all the calmness and patience that he’d learned through years of servitude to Eros. He also called up all the wisdom that he’d learned from Love himself. “Because Love makes us do stupid things,” he said.

The burning radiance that was flowing from Apollo winked out of existence, and for a moment, it was as though only he and Zephyrus existed. Zephyrus’ heart skipped a beat when instead of a wrathful, vengeful god, what he saw was a lost young man in Apollo’s eyes.

The moment passed as soon as it had come. Apollo sank to his knees, cradling his mortal hand that had begun smoking, filling the clearing with the stench of burned flesh. The god’s body was wracked with uncontrollable sobbing, and, in the moments of silence that followed, Apollo’s broken sniffling was the only sound that carried through the sharp night air.

Zephyrus forced down his desire to step through the barrier and give Apollo a consoling hand. He wasn’t stupid. He knew well enough that Apollo wouldn’t let him. “Now,” said the West Wind, ignoring his personal feelings and turning to Leo and Calypso. “How can I help?”

The demigod and the immortal looked first at Apollo, then at Zephyrus, then back. Leo was the one to answer. “Could you, maybe, bring the Valdezinator over here?” he asked. It was awkward talking to the guy that had caused Apollo’s emotional meltdown. Zephyrus blinked at Leo in confusion.

“Oh, uh… The machine.” Blank stare. “The instrument?” Uncomprehending gaze. “Over there,” said Leo, snapping his fingers and pointing at the Valdezinator in the distance.

Zephyrus shook his head. He’d been thinking. His mind had just barely been paying attention. “Ah,” he said. “I shall bring it into the dome,” he said.

\----------

 _Thump_. A heartbeat. A single heartbeat. The Fates had been gone for that short a time. The air before Nico shimmered. _Thump_. A second heartbeat. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he could _hear_ the roaring of the blood in his ears. _Thump_. Two strands of yarn, cut at the exact same place, appeared in front of Nico.

The two threads twisted and turned in the air. They danced around each other. They darted in. They jumped out. Eventually, they wound around each other and drifted down. Nico caught the two threads.

Nico could tell, somehow, that one of the two threads was his own. He did not know whose the other was, but he knew, without a doubt, the message that the Fates were sending him. They were telling him that his destiny was intertwined with another’s. Nico found his mind wandering to Will. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing to die with the other boy.

Other young man, now, mused Nico. They weren’t even teenagers anymore. He was twenty. Will was two years older than him. It was so difficult to think of himself in terms of normal mortal years because so much had happened. He didn’t _feel_ twenty. He felt more like three hundred.

A small smile tugged at Nico’s lips. Then the smile turned into a grimace as the world seemed to turn sideways around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger to drive away the sudden nausea.

When Nico opened his eyes again, he was back where he’d been before the Fates slowed time down. His father was droning on about how he’d improved his relationship with Persephone, and Will was looking at him with this expression that only said ‘ _why?_ ’

Nico stared blankly at his father for a moment, trying to process everything. “Nico?” asked Hades. “Nico are you alright?” Nico didn’t respond for a good moment or two.

“Oh,” said Nico, shaking his head to free himself from his stupor. “Yeah, I’m alright, dad.” His words trailed off at the end as his mind wandered, unwillingly, back to the encounter with the Fates.

Hades laughed and clapped a hand on Nico’s shoulder, interrupting him from his thoughts again. “I shouldn’t bore you with this story,” said the Lord of the Dead. Nico looked at Will who was trying his best to bite back a sigh of relief.

“You must be terribly tired,” said Hades. Nico nodded. “That brings me to another matter, in fact, my son.” Nico blinked at his father. His mind didn’t make any connections to possible ‘matters’ that Hades might have wanted to speak of. “You’re getting too old for camp,” said Hades.

“Oh,” said Nico. He looked at Will. The son of Apollo shrugged. He didn’t know where Hades was going with this tangent into Nico’s age either. “I suppose I am…” Nico looked at Hades, trying to puzzle out what his father meant. “I… what?”

Hades chuckled. “I mean to say that you should think about getting a home here in Theopolis,” said the Lord of the Dead. Persephone looked mildly surprised by the suggestion. She looked at Nico, and he could tell that she wanted him to take up his father on it. “I can pay for your rent, if you’d just like a small apartment,” said Hades.

Nico looked at his father, then he looked at Will. Will’s expression was encouraging. Nico pondered the matter. He supposed that it would be good to have a place to call his own, but he didn’t want his dad to pay for everything.

“Only until I can get a job?” said Nico, looking hopefully at Hades. His father smiled and nodded graciously. Nico had a small smile on his face. At least he hadn’t needed to argue with his father about it. “What about Will?” he asked.

A brief panicked look crossed Hades’ face. He looked at Persephone, who was smiling wickedly at him. _She_ had had to endure giving _the talk_ to Hazel and Frank a year or so ago. Well, Proserpine did, but that was beyond the point. She looked at Hades and grinned. “I think I’ll go and join mother for dinner,” she said.

“But—” said Hades. Before he could protest any further, Persephone had vanished into a cloud of spring flower petals. “Well,” said Hades, paling a little bit more than usual. “How do I do this?” he said, thinking aloud.

“Well, you see, Nico,” said Hades. “When two people are… uh… in love…” The moment he said the ‘l-word’ Nico and Will looked at each other, then looked away and turned multiple shades of crimson. “They get together in bed and…” Mentally, Hades was shaking his fist at Persephone for abandoning him at such a crucial juncture.

It was at that moment that Nico realized that his father was trying to give him _the talk_. He scowled. He had to think of _some_ way to stop this humiliation from happening. “Dad!” he yelled. “I’ve already _done it_ with someone!”

Hades was in the middle of rambling to himself about birds and bees and whatnot, when Nico started shouting. “Oh?” he asked. Persephone materialized beside him again. “Great, you come back when there’s juicy gossip to spread,” said Hades. Persephone shook her head and grinned cheekily at Hades.

“No,” said the goddess, looking pointedly at Nico. “There will be no gossipping here,” she said. “I just had a bet with Aphrodite…” Nico had a bad feeling about where this was going to go. “About when Nico would lose his cherry to this dashing young son of Apollo over here,” she said.

Nico and Will looked at each other again, then just as quickly looked at _anything_ but each other. Their faces were both burning. “I—” said Nico. Persephone leaned in, interested. “I didn’t do it with Will yet!” he said, the words coming out almost too fast to be intelligible.

“Ooh,” said Persephone with a wink at Nico. “Now _this_ is some juicy gossip.” Nico didn’t catch the wink, so he turned even redder. Will looked somewhat hurt. He thought about the times he’d done it with Jason, and that one drunken tryst he’d had with Pollux years before. He then felt rather guilty about being so hypocritical.

“Persephone, dear,” said Hades, patting her arm. “Shush,” he said with a gentle smile at Nico. “You’re embarrassing Nico,” he said. Nico was startled when Hades shook his shoulder to get his attention. “Will can stay with you, if he agrees, and as long as you make sure you’re safe.”

Nico blushed again. “Can we just keep this among ourselves?” Nico said. His voice was pleading. Hades nodded. Persephone, on the other hand, just smiled cordially.

“Aphrodite’s going to notice that you’re no longer a virgin eventually, Nico,” said Persephone. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll keep my silence.”

Nico looked at his step-mother gratefully. “Uh… _I’m_ not sure if _I_ want to live with Will,” said Nico. Hades raised an eyebrow in surprise. Given the amount of infatuation he could sense between the two young men, he’d thought it wouldn’t even be a question.

“It’s just…” Nico looked at Will, whose eyes were rather big in his head. Nico couldn’t tell if Will was happy, or if Will was sad that he still had to think about this. “It’s just a big decision, you know?” he said. “I don’t know if I want someone else living full-time with me yet.”

Hades nodded. Will looked, surprisingly, relieved. “How about a two-unit complex?” Hades said. Nico had no idea what that meant. He looked at his father and asked for an explanation. “It’s basically two connected units with common yards.”

Nico looked at Will, wondering if he approved. Will shrugged. “Is it cheaper than two separate apartments?” asked Nico. He was thinking about the future. He didn’t know if they would survive, but if they did, he didn’t want to end up with an apartment he couldn’t pay the rent for.

Hades thought about the question for a moment. “Don’t ask me why,” said the Lord of the Dead. He wasn’t the one in charge of determining housing prices, after all. “But yes, it is cheaper in the long run,” he said. Nico looked at Will again. Will didn’t really care.

“Then I suppose we’ll take it,” said Nico with uncertainty in his voice. Hades grinned and clapped another hand on Nico’s other shoulder. “Thanks, dad,” he said. In truth he’d not been looking forward to living in the Hades cabin again. Whenever he thought about the place, some small part of him ached from the phantom pain left behind by the memories he’d paid as a price for the power of Anathema.

“Sorry your cabin won’t have any residents anymore,” said Nico. Part of him was also relieved that he wouldn’t have to redecorate the damn place. He didn’t know if it had changed in three years, but he’d sworn to himself, while battling against the forces of Nyx, that if he ever returned and those coffin-beds were still in the Hades cabin, that he would burn the damn place to the ground.

“I’ll work on it,” said Hades with a wink. Persephone smacked him on the shoulder, but it was done in good nature. It seemed as though she’d accepted the fact that Hades would have occasional trysts with mortals. “Your step-mother might get her own cabin eventually, too,” he said.

“Only if mother stops trying to _kill_ everyone I so much as fancy,” said Persephone. Hades chuckled. “Hey,” said the goddess. “You know better than anyone that I’m being serious here, Hades.” Persephone scowled, but then started laughing, too. “What I mean to say is we’ll see if you end up with any half step-brothers in the future.”

Nico hadn’t wanted to know. Nico _definitely_ didn’t want to know. Now that he did know, he wished he _didn’t_. “Ugh, dad, no,” he said. “I don’t want to hear about your ‘conquests.’” Nico scowled. “Do you have anything you want to bring, Will?” he asked, turning to his boyfriend.

Will silently shook his head, still a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Conquest is such a strong word, Nico,” said Hades. Nico had expected humour to accompany Hades’ words, but there wasn’t any. There was only sincerity. “Maria definitely wasn’t a conquest,” he said. “She was a good woman.”

Nico half-expected Persephone to get angry over his mother again, but instead she just squeezed Hades’ arm as the god turned rather morose. “Tell me,” he said. “What happened to her?” he asked. “I wish I hadn’t given up the memory,” he said. “Was it Zeus?”

Nico nodded, unable to speak. It was difficult, seeing Hades so vulnerable. His father had always been, to Nico, stoic and unemotional. Seeing him so affected by the loss of Maria di Angelo’s memory was unsettling. “I figured,” said Hades. “I remember being furious at Zeus. Hateful, even, but I can’t remember why.”

“Hades,” said Persephone, looking with concern at the distress on Nico’s face. “We can speak more of this later,” she said. “Nico is weary enough, and the night is old. The demigods need their rest.” Nico looked gratefully at his step-mother for the distraction.

Silence stretched after that. Finally, Hades capitulated. “We’ll talk again some other time, right?” he asked Nico. Nico nodded. At least his father asked his permission and didn’t just demand it. Maybe the gods really had changed. “Will doesn’t need anything more from his cabin?” Nico looked at Will. Will shook his head.

“Then I’ll take you to your new place,” said Hades with a smirk. Nico was confused for a moment. From what he’d seen of the city, it was still mostly bare. He didn’t know why his father was taking them to their apartment if there wasn’t anything there yet.

“You’re not the only one that can summon skeletons to do his bidding, Nico,” said Hades with a cheeky clip in his voice. Nico silently berated himself for having forgotten. “Maybe sometimes remember where your powers come from, my son,” said Hades with a smirk, before he grabbed Will by the scruff of his neck and shadow-travelled the two demigods to their apartment.

Will stumbled out of the shadows and knelt on the floor trying to not retch his guts out. He had no idea how Nico managed it, but it was one of the most horrid experiences he’d ever had.

Nico knelt by Will and forced the revulsion that tore through his body as he placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He _had_ to get down to the bottom of why he found contact with Will repulsive every so often. “Are you alright?” he asked as Will started to regain his composure.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” managed Will through gritted teeth. “I don’t get how you can tolerate that crap,” he said. Hades chuckled. “Right,” he said, looking up at father and son as Persephone materialized beside Hades. “Children of darkness, blah blah blah,” he said, staggering to his feet.

Will and Nico took a look around once Will had regained most of his composure. They’d been expecting dark and gloomy furnishings, which, Nico would have been entirely alright with, but it seemed as though Hades had developed a more modern taste. “It wasn’t me,” said Hades, scowling at the decor.

“Lacks doom and gloom, I think,” said Hades. He raised a hand. He had every intention of summoning up a bone chair and perhaps a couple of skull candle-holders to replace the lamps as light fixtures.

Nico frowned at his father. “Dad,” he said. “It’s okay.”

Nico had spent so long in Tartarus, waging war against Night herself, that doom and gloom wasn’t really _his_ thing anymore. He liked the motifs of the underworld, but not in excess, which was what the Hades cabin exactly represented. This more modern take was actually refreshing.

Hades frowned at Nico. He’d always thought that Nico preferred the darker things. After all, Nico was the one that had taken the child of Hades persona rather seriously with all the dark colours and skull-printed shirt. He supposed Nico had grown out of that phase. He didn’t really mind. He was just glad that his son was developing his individuality.

“Alright,” said Hades. “Do you need anything else?” Nico looked around and wondered just how big the unit was. “Oh, this is your unit, by the way, my son.” Nico nodded as his eyes alighted on the large couch nearby. He could get used to that.

“H-how can I repay all this?” Nico asked, realizing, after a moment, that all the furniture would have cost a fortune.

Hades shook his head and smiled tenderly at his son. “Think of it as three missed birthdays’ worth of presents,” he said.

\----------

The machine was pretty damn heavy. Looking at it from afar, Zephyrus had woefully underestimated its weight. The Valdezinator was quite difficult to move, at least for him. His bones weren’t very strong, after all. Thankfully, Zephyrus was a god, and his powers were well-suited to the transportation of things, heavy or otherwise.

Still, it was a feat of sheer concentration that resulted in the Valdezinator being dropped whole and unharmed in front of the glowing dome of energy that surrounded Apollo and his two companions. Zephyrus looked at the Valdezinator. Zephyrus had to wonder whether something that looked as complicated as the Valdezinator could possibly qualify as an instrument.

Then again, Zephyrus thought, there were those massive windpipe organs. He _supposed_ the Valdezinator could qualify as an instrument on the grounds that it wasn’t _really_ large or complicated at all, relatively speaking. Zephyrus sighed and turned the Valdezinator into wind. He tried to push it through the barrier, but it was repelled.

Zephyrus frowned. Leo and Calypso looked at each other with concern. If they couldn’t get the Valdezinator into the dome, then they wouldn’t be able to leave it. Apollo offered very little help. In fact, he offered none. He was far more intent kneeling on the floor of the clearing, staring blankly at the ground.

“It looks like…” Zephyrus said.

Calypso stepped up to the barrier and frowned at the West Wind. “Zephyrus,” she said. “Step through the line and you become trapped here with us.” Zephyrus shrugged. He had come to Apollo’s aid because he wanted to help, and that extended to trying to get the half-god out of this predicament of his, whether or not Apollo wanted his aid.

“Then so be it,” said Zephyrus. There was a fierce determination raging in him. Eros had told him that he would earn his freedom when he’d earned Apollo’s forgiveness. Still, Zephyrus found himself wanting to do this to help Apollo rather than to earn his own liberty. He’d spent millennia serving Eros. He had actually gotten used to it. His master was more of a friend these days, though surprisingly enough, the one thing they did not talk about was love.

“Zephyrus!” said Calypso, reaching for Zephyrus, but pulling back her hand at the last moment before it touched the barrier. “Think about what you’re doing,” she said. “I’m probably not the best at counsel, but, you’ll be stuck in here with your enemy. It’s not easy as it seems.”

Zephyrus smiled at Calypso, the look gentle and at home on his face. His russet-coloured wings flapped, calling up a slight breeze that blew his hair across his face. “I’ve spent a lifetime of penance for a mistake I made in jealousy,” said Zephyrus. “Apollo is no longer an enemy of mine.”

“But _you_ are one of his,” said Apollo. Zephyrus looked at the half-god, but was surprised to find that Apollo wasn’t even looking at him. Apollo was still kneeling in the cold Siberian soil. His eyes were downcast, and tears were falling from them.

Zephyrus looked at Calypso. “That’s why I need to do this,” he said. “I need some sort of reconciliation with Apollo.” Calypso frowned at him. There was no way that Apollo would forgive the West Wind. Millennia of bad blood couldn’t possibly be erased. “Trust me,” said Zephyrus as he placed his hands on the Valdezinator.

Leo called out from deeper within the dome. “Calypso!” he said. “This guy’s our only hope for getting out of here.” Leo was looking at his feet and shuffling uncomfortably where he stood. He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want an eyeful of Apollo’s ass.

Reluctantly, Calypso stepped away from the barrier as Zephyrus started the arduous process of pushing the Valdezinator through. Zephyrus tried to lift the machine, but it was too difficult to do delicately. It took a lot more effort than Zephyrus had anticipated. Fortunately, it slid rather readily across the ground.

Unfortunately, Zephyrus had to bend over to push the machine along the ground. Inch by inch, the Valdezinator slid through the barrier. The machine vibrated as the magic of the barrier washed over it. Nevertheless, the moment when Zephyrus had to go through came all too soon.

Zephyrus pushed the last part of the Valdezinator past the glowing dome. As soon as his hands passed through the dome, he felt a shock ripple through his body and he was hurtled into the dome by an unseen force. He tumbled right over the Valdezinator and landed in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Zephyrus staggered to his feet with the help of Calypso and Leo, whose eyes were still averted. “That could have gone better,” he said. He ruffled his left wing in annoyance. It was bent at an odd angle. He winced as he willed his powers to repair the limb.

A sickening crack filled the air as the wing popped back into place and feathers regrew to replace the ones that had been stripped by his rough landing. There were a couple stuck to the Valdezinator’s gears and levers. Some were strewn about on the ground, caught on twigs and rocks.

Zephyrus was mostly alright despite his rough entrance into the dome. He extended his wings, glad to have them back in working order. “Great,” said Apollo from where he was still kneeling. “Now I have to deal with you in here, too.”

Zephyrus shook his head. He didn’t have many words for Apollo at the moment. He, patient as he was, was already beginning to get annoyed. He turned to Calypso and Leo. “So… He needs to learn how to play this thing to get the curse lifted?”

Calypso and Leo shared a look. Leo nodded. “He’s right here,” said Apollo. The half-god’s voice was monotonous. “He’s listening to what you’re talking about,” he said. “Just in case you forgot the super hot god of the Sun wasn’t nearby.” Apollo’s words lacked their normal enthusiasm. It sounded like he was trying, but failing miserably.

“Teach me?” said Zephyrus. There was a derisive snort from Apollo. Zephyrus looked at Apollo. His voice came terse and clipped. “If I can learn how to play the damn instrument,” he said, “then that means that there is some part of you that is stopping you from playing it.”

\----------

Zephyrus, as it turned out, was a rather quick study when it came to musical instruments. Whether it was his godly knowledge or simply raw talent, he quickly got a grasp of the convoluted machine that was the Valdezinator. He looked at it and marvelled at what he saw.

“This instrument is wonderful,” said Zephyrus. He turned to Leo and smiled. He generously offered an unripened banana to the son of Hephaestus, but didn’t feel too bad when it was turned down. Unripened fruit weren’t very appetizing or good in general, after all.  “I have to wonder why Apollo can’t seem to play it,” he said, playing a few resonant notes by manipulating levers and buttons and cogs.

Zephyrus was sitting on the floor, toying with the Valdezinator. Leo looked rather pleased that someone had finally figured out how to use the instrument other than himself. “How does it work?” asked Zephyrus.

Leo scratched his head. He wasn’t entirely sure if what he’d told Apollo those years ago about how the Valdezinator worked was true, but he decided to stick with it anyway. If he was bullshitting, at least he was bullshitting consistently. “It translates your feelings into music as you manipulate the gears,” he said, blinking once he realized he’d pretty much repeated himself word for word.

“I see,” said Zephyrus, getting a thoughtful look on his face. The West Wind looked at Apollo. His russet-coloured wings flapped in the air. He couldn’t be bothered to get rid of them at the moment.

“I think I know why Apollo can’t play it,” said Zephyrus. He placed his hands on the cranks and levers again and started to play the Valdezinator. He scrunched up his face in concentration. The sound that came out of the instrument was sharp and unpleasant.

“Ah,” said Zephyrus. Leo and Calypso looked at him with curiosity. “Since it runs off of emotions, someone who’s sealed off his emotions naturally won’t be able to play it,” said the West Wind as he placed his fingers on the Valdezinator again. He closed his eyes and willed up his most powerful memories.

The song started out light and almost carefree. Zephyrus’ fingers darted across the many levers and gears and knobs and cranks with a graceful deftness. Leo actually felt like dancing, which, as Calypso had oft pointed out, wasn’t even something he was good at.

The music swelled. The tone changed. Now it felt as though Leo was falling in love all over again. He looked at Calypso and they embraced. He kissed the immortal and sighed happily into her lips. The happy notes rose and fell, but all the same, it felt downright jubilant.

The notes rose to a crescendo that suddenly plummeted. The notes that came were discordant. Screaming highs and pounding lows rang out from the Valdezinator, the likes of which, Leo hadn’t even known the machine could produce. The music was bitter, but in the chaos of note after note, there was still a story being told.

The discord of the music mellowed out, but the symphony became cold and calculating. Leo and Calypso could feel the sheer hatred ringing out from the machine, even if the music was relatively calm. Something sinister began to subtly rise in the background.

This malevolent presence in the melody began to make itself known, weaving itself into every note that rang out, until with a shaking crescendo, the music stopped. Dead silence filled the clearing. Leo took a look at Zephyrus and saw that the god was shaking. Tears were falling from his eyes. His wings were drooped and gathering soil.

Leo wanted to walk toward the West Wind, but Calypso held him back. Her eyes told him that Zephyrus wasn’t done. No more than a heartbeat later, the discordant music returned. The highs and lows were further apart than they had been before, and they screamed through the clearing.

Apollo started shaking, moved by the music that Zephyrus was weaving. Slowly, the discord faded out. The notes came slowly. They were drawn out. They were monotonous. Leo felt numbness radiating from Zephyrus. He could see Apollo clutching his arms to his chest.

Leo looked at Calypso, whose eyes were brimming with tears. They embraced each other. They knew that this was Zephyrus’ story, told through the music of the Valdezinator. It seemed like an eternity passed before the throbbing, drumming drone of the monotonous music began to give way to something more mellow and relaxed.

Leo could feel the regret and pain dwelling in the background, but the body of the symphony was largely more calm. There was peace. All the same, there was longing. For a moment, Leo wondered where the birdsong came from. The tittering high and low notes that filled the air were foreign to him.

Calypso looked at Leo. The son of Hephaestus shrugged. He was pretty sure that the Valdezinator wasn’t capable of producing birdsong. Then they looked at Zephyrus and realized that _he_ was making the birdsong.

They listened for what seemed to be another eternity, the twittering of birds following the rising and falling of the melody. Then, softly, inexorably, the music began to fade, and Zephyrus leaned back. His hands dropped to his lap, and his wings drooped even lower. The West Wind wiped the tears from his eyes and rose to his feet.

Apollo was standing now, too. He glared at Zephyrus with such hatred that Leo thought Zephyrus would melt into a puddle then and there. The West Wind shook his head and walked to Apollo. “I don’t know if apologies would cut it,” he said. Apollo snarled at him. “I take it back. I know apologies won’t cut it,” he said.

“But I can do something that might let you forgive me,” said Zephyrus. Apollo took a step back, suddenly fearful. Zephyrus reached into his basket and retrieved one of his most precious possessions. One of Eros’ arrows. He approached Apollo. Apollo kept backing away.

Eventually, Zephyrus had Apollo pinned to barrier. The skin of the sun-god’s back was sizzling because of the magic. Zephyrus smiled, his eyes sad. “Don’t you dare,” said Apollo. Even he wasn’t impervious to the magic of Eros’ arrows. Zephyrus shook his head and raised the arrow.

Apollo raised his hand to defend himself, but instead, Zephyrus plunged the arrow into his own chest. He looked upon Apollo and felt the familiar tug of devotion in his heart. “It’s done,” said Zephyrus. He knelt in front of Apollo and bowed his head. “Do with my heart what you will. It’s fitting revenge, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with this week's chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly did.
> 
> There's a lot of setting-up going on here. :3. What do you think of Zephyrus' and Apollo's interaction? What do you think will become of them in the future? Do you think Zephyrus is stupid for making himself fall for someone that obviously hates him? What do you think of Hades and Persephone's new dynamic? What about Nico and Will's new apartment? Jesus Christ there are so many things that happened in this chapter. o.o
> 
> Anyway, I have an announcement to make that probably won't make a lot of people happy. I've been really busy, and as a direct result, I've been mostly unmotivated to write. Your comments would help, but only so far. xD. It's university, after all. I can't write at the speed that I was able to over the break, so, as a result, I think, I will have to cut down on the updates.
> 
> I'm really sorry, but if you want regular updates instead of waiting gods know how long between each one, I'll have to start posting just once a week, on the Saturday. Would that be alright? Leave a comment with your thoughts! Or send me an ask over on my tumblr at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)!
> 
> I'd love to read your feedback. <3\. I'll see you all next update.


	18. A Needed Conversation

Zephyrus was still kneeling at Apollo’s feet. He didn’t want to stand. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t care if he was prostrate before his great enemy, at least as the myths remembered. What he did care about was the fact that his heart was beating in his chest, thumping against his ribs, compelling him to throw his arms around Apollo.

“I don’t know what got that idea in your head,” said Apollo, frowning at the god kneeling before him. His back was still pressed against the dome, mortal skin sizzling uncomfortably because of the magic. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as Apollo knew it should have, but he supposed that he was instinctively healing himself. “You’re an idiot, Zephyrus,” he said.

“You. Are. An. Idiot,” said Apollo. He had no reservations about touching Zephyrus. Each word, he punctuated by pushing down on Zephyrus’ head with his index finger.

If Zephyrus had been aiming to quell Apollo’s anger, he had succeeded. Mere heartbeats ago, Apollo’s mind had been a raging maelstrom of anger, sorrow, fear, and uncertainty. He had thought that Zephyrus would use the arrow on _him_. That Zephyrus would force him to love the god that had killed his lover.

Instead, Zephyrus had plunged Eros’s arrow into his own chest, and offered his heart to Apollo, not as a peace offering, but as a tool for his revenge. Apollo didn’t know what to think of it. His mind was ruled by only two emotions: bewilderment, and irritation.

Apollo hadn’t the faintest idea what he was supposed to do with Zephyrus’ heart. There was some vindictive part of Apollo that wanted to take that ‘heart’ and crush it into ashes in the palm of his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was another part of him that saw Zephyrus’ remorse and wished to give the West Wind another chance.

Apollo felt that it would be great to have Zephyrus subordinate to his will. Having a god, the West Wind no less, at his beck and call would have been fantastic. However, Apollo sincerely did not know _how_ to exert his control over Zephyrus. He genuinely was conflicted as to whether it would be proper to even _do_ so.

Still, the vindictive part of Apollo demanded that he punish Zephyrus for the sin of killing Hyacinthus. He just couldn’t think of a punishment that would fit the crime. Much to his own chagrin, the only ‘punishments’ that hecould think of were kinky ones.

As much as he would have loved to entertain the thought of leaving Zephyrus trussed up and abused and weeping some other time, Apollo was fairly certain that the last thing he wanted was to get an erection. It would have been inappropriate, considering the gravity of the situation, not to mention embarrassing, as he had no way to cover himself up

The last thing that Apollo needed, as well, was to get humiliated even more for being unable to control his sexual impulses. He was already humiliated enough that Zephyrus had been able to play the Valdezinator infinitely better after a short lesson than Apollo had ever managed over the last three years.

Despite the fact that Apollo was constantly pushing down on his head painfully with a single finger, Zephyrus remained relatively still where he knelt. His wings were folded humbly against his back. His head was lowered in acceptance of what Apollo was doing. He was presenting himself as a gift of reconciliation to Apollo.

It was the least that Zephyrus could do after breaking not only Apollo’s heart, but also his own because of Hyacinthus. That one moment of weakness so long ago had caused himself and Apollo untold pain and suffering.

Now, Zephyrus thought, with no bitterness, but a sense of justice, Apollo could do the same to him. Apollo could break his heart over and over again. It would be the just thing to happen. Zephyrus’ servitude under Eros had not been much of a punishment. He had always known he deserved worse for ruining three lives because of something as petty as jealousy.

Apollo frowned at Zephyrus. He realized that thinking about punishments for Zephyrus would do nothing to help his situation. What he wanted to do was to get out of the fucking dome and leave Siberia, preferably for good.

Dwelling on old heartaches and pain would do Apollo no good, he thought. He grabbed the side of Zephyrus’ face and shoved the god aside. Both Apollo and Zephyrus were surprised by the force of the shove. It sent Zephyrus sprawling into the dirt to the side.

Apollo wiped the surprise from his face, and scowled at Zephyrus. “How were you able to play the Valdezinator?” demanded the half-god. In three years, Apollo hadn’t even managed an infinitesimally small fraction of what Zephyrus had after just a few minutes of learning. Apollo felt himself compelled to understand why _he_ couldn’t play it, but his age-old, supposed-enemy could. He had been the god of Music, after all.

Zephyrus didn’t bother to rise from where Apollo had knocked him down. He didn’t need to look to see that one of his wings was twisted again. He rather loved his extra feathery limbs, but the fact was that they were fragile, and that was often an annoyance when he had to go into battle as his human form. He much preferred battle as a horse, but he didn’t often have that choice. “I let my emotions guide me,” said Zephyrus.

Apollo stiffened where he stood. Zephyrus could practically see the expression on Apollo’s face solidify into emotionless stone, even as he saw Apollo’s body tremble in anger. “And you think I don’t?” said Apollo. The anger was also plain on Apollo’s tone of voice.

Zephyrus looked up, and he saw, reflected in Apollo’s eyes, fear, uncertainty and insecurity. He had not had the time to answer before Apollo lost his temper. Zephyrus realized that he had struck a sore chord with Apollo. “I have emotions!” said the half-god. “I have plenty of them!” Apollo was practically screaming. The half-god stomped over to the Valdezinator.

Apollo plopped himself down on the forest floor. He pulled at levers. He spun cranks. Everything he did was done with barely-contained fury, but that was the biggest problem. He was containing himself. The machine croaked and squeaked and made horrid ear-splitting shrieks.

Zephyrus had to cover his ears. The sound was so discordant and cacophonous that the birds that had been sleeping in the trees nearby all took flight almost instantly. Leo and Calypso did the same as Zephyrus. None of them could stand the horrid ‘music’ that Apollo was making.

“No,” said Zephyrus softly, once Apollo had had enough, and was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t say you had to let your emotions control you,” said the West Wind, rising from the forest floor with a sickening pop as he realigned his wings. With a grimace, Zephyrus pushed himself back to his feet. “You need to _let go,_ ” he said.

The glare that Apollo shot Zephyrus could have melted through two feet of steel. Zephyrus was sure of it. “Don’t get started with the Buddhist bullshit,” he said, anger from frayed nerves palpable in his voice.

Apollo turned away from Zephyrus and looked at the Valdezinator, scowling. Zephyrus had to wonder how much longer Apollo needed to scowl before his face permanently bore the lines of his displeasure. “There must be something to this curse that doesn’t let me play musical instruments properly!” said Apollo.

Zephyrus shook his head. The last thing that they needed right now was for Apollo to be in denial. “Yes,” said Apollo, “That’s it! Zeus cursed me to _not_ be able to play the damn thing, and then he cursed me to have to play it to leave this place!”

Apollo’s tone suggested that he was trying to convince himself. He kept muttering about Zeus being unfair, but Zephyrus was fast enough to spot the emotions that flitted through Apollo’s expressions like lightning. There was disappointment. Bitterness. Insecurity. “I’ve always been a disappointment for Zeus,” said Apollo. Even the name of his father tasted acrid on his tongue. “He probably wanted to just lock me away forever.”

Zephyrus shook his head. “Don’t be stupid,” he said with a pointed look at Apollo. He got a glare in return. Zephyrus ignored Apollo’s anger and turned to Calypso. “One of the most powerful sorceresses of our myths is here, why don’t we ask her if you’re twice-curst?”

Calypso frowned at Zephyrus. Leo stepped protectively in front of her, but she gently pushed Leo out of the way. She walked over to Apollo and waved her hand over his head. She walked back to Leo, frowning at Zephyrus.

Calypso had not wanted to get involved in this godly spat between Zephyrus and Apollo, even if the latter was only half-divine at the moment. Apollo looked expectantly at Calypso. Zephyrus had the exact same expression on his face. “There is only one curse,” said Calypso, shaking her head.

“Impossible!” exclaimed Apollo, banging his mortal fist against the Valdezinator and cursing when his hand throbbed in pain. Apollo was refusing to listen to reason. He didn’t want to let his emotions show more than he already had. He’d always been told, he’d always heard from the mortals, that showing emotion was unbecoming of a son of Zeus. “A second curse is the only answer!” he insisted, “I can learn to play _anything!_ ”

Zephyrus walked over to Apollo, his russet-coloured wings rustling as his feathers moved through the air. “Yes,” he said gently, coming to a stop in front of the half-god. “But,” said Zephyrus, “that doesn’t mean that you have a very good handle on your own emotions.” He touched Apollo’s hand in the tender way that only a lover might do. In the way that Hyacinthus had used to.

Apollo’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared. A static shock travelled up his arm. “Here,” said Zephyrus, “Let me help.” The West Wind bent down and cupped both of Apollo’s hands in his own. He placed Apollo’s hands on the levers and cranks of the Valdezinator, and summoned a pocket of air to raise the Valdezinator to a decent height.

Apollo slowly rose with the Valdezinator. Once he was standing, comfortably, he felt Zephyrus start to walk around him. Apollo froze. He didn’t want any of Zephyrus’ help, but it was beginning to seem as though he didn’t have a choice. If Zephyrus had been able to figure out the Valdezinator so quickly, then Apollo needed his help to learn.

Zephyrus stood behind Apollo, examining the view from there. So little had changed over the eons. Apollo was, as he found himself compelled to admit, rather beautiful. He placed his hands on Apollo’s shoulders. The touch was so light that Apollo shivered.

Zephyrus squeezed Apollo’s shoulders gently. Slowly, inexorably, his fingers trailed down Apollo’s arms. Each light, feathery touch of his fingers sent chills coursing through Apollo. He noted, with surprise, that he was not getting too aroused. “Do you remember our prince?” asked Zephyrus.

The question was nothing more than a whisper as Zephyrus took one step toward Apollo, pressing himself against Apollo’s back. The sound was musical to Apollo. It was definitely like the whisper of a warm spring wind. “I do remember him,” said Apollo.

Zephyrus’ fingers found Apollo’s hands. It was sensual, the way that the slender digits wrapped around Apollo’s.

Apollo became acutely aware of Zephyrus’ presence, the body pressed up against his back. For a precious moment, only the two of them existed. They forgot all about Leo and Calypso standing nearby.

Leo was looking rather disturbed by the sight. Calypso, thankfully, had the good sense to rebuke him. “You’re a Greek,” she said, “This kind of thing is normal.” It was true. As much as the myths tended to remember the gods’ mortal flings with women, they had as many with men.

Leo made a gagging sound. “Don’t be a butt, Leo,” said Calypso with a cheeky grin. Leo looked at Calypso with surprise. “What?” she said, with a smirk. “I’m not stupid.” Calypso rolled her eyes. “I’ve learned a thing or two from our travels,” she said. “I haven’t been living under a rock for three years, Leo.”

Apollo and Zephyrus were still having their moment. It seemed to not want to pass. Apollo couldn’t help but lean into Zephyrus’ body. There was a warmth there, a comfort that he’d not thought could come from the god that had ended the life of his mortal lover.

Apollo squeezed his eyes shut as the memories of Hyacinthus came hard and fast. His fingers hooked around a lever and a crank. Gently, Zephyrus rubbed circles with his thumb into the flesh of Apollo’s hand. His fingers loosened in their grip. “He was the prince of Sparta,” said Apollo, with a profound sadness in his voice.

Apollo’s fingers twitched. Under the guidance of Zephyrus, who was calling up his own memories of the Spartan Prince they had both been so smitten with, Apollo began to move the crank. “He was beautiful.” Zephyrus could hear the wistfulness in Apollo’s voice.

“He was strong,” said Zephyrus. Apollo nodded. He remembered that, too. For a moment, in his mind’s eye, Zephyrus’ arms around him became Hyacinthus’. Apollo pulled at the lever and a high clear note rang out in the clearing. It was haunting, the sound that the Valdezinator managed to produce.

“His eyes were bright with the joy of youth,” said Apollo, slipping into Ancient Greek. “His hair was dark,” Zephyrus closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Apollo’s neck, the way that he’d often dreamed he would get to do with Hyacinthus. “His hair was lush…”

“It’s a faint memory, but I long to run my fingers through his hair again…” A melody began to form. It was slow. It was haunting. The high notes that vibrated in the air lingered as though they didn’t want to leave. They spoke of one emotion, and one alone: longing.

The music was soft, at first, despite the clarity with which the notes rang out in the silence of the early morning. The melody grew louder, soon enough. It was a song of sorrow, and remorse. It was a song of lost love, and bitter anger.

A single tear rolled down the side of Apollo’s already-tear-stained cheeks.

“Father would never have this,” whispered Apollo. The words surprised Zephyrus. His hands jerked and drew an ugly note from the Valdezinator. “He would say that we shouldn’t have lasting tenderness for mortals. That we aren’t supposed to feel this heartbreak and loss when they die…”

Apollo shook his head from side to side. It was heart-wrenching. The music swelled with Apollo’s pain, and for once, he was able to just let go. “When Hyacinthus died, ever the favoured son, Hermes told me that I knew I had loved a mortal and that I should not mourn his mortality.”

The words continued to tug at Zephyrus’ heart, and for the first time, he realized that perhaps Apollo’s bluster and confidence was all just an act to seem like a better son of Zeus.

“I’ve always asked myself,” said Apollo, “How could I _really_ be a god if my heart, as many as it might have loved over the passing of the years, returns time and again to that young prince of Sparta so many long years ago…” Apollo’s longing was so strong Zephyrus could almost _physically_ feel it.

Zephyrus’ hands had long since dropped away from Apollo’s. His arms were now wrapped around the god’s still-chiselled torso. Apollo’s hands were now guided by his memories of the time he’d spent with Hyacinthus alone. The only thing that Apollo had needed was a push in the right direction.

“I don’t care,” said Apollo. The words accompanied an unexpected swell in the music. “I would give anything to be with Hyacinthus again,” said Apollo with conviction.

Zephyrus’ chest constricted around his poor heart. Even if he knew that he had given his love away to Apollo as atonement for the sin he’d done, he couldn’t help but be hurt by those words. He was irrevocably in love with Apollo now. He had made sure of that.

Still, Zephyrus thought, that his pining for someone that would never love him back was punishment enough for the eternity of longing that he’d forced onto Apollo.

“Why?” asked the West Wind softly, his own mind filled with the fleeting memories of watching Hyacinthus and Apollo throw the discus around, two specimens of magnificent men. They were two men, each beautiful in his own right. The myths remembered them as so much more and so much less than they had seen each other.

“He never saw me as more than what I am,” said Apollo. For the first time since wrapping his arms around Apollo, the strains of lonely music washed over Zephyrus. He could not stop the tears that came tumbling from his eyes.

“He never treated me as Lord Apollo. Never as the son of Zeus. Never as the great god of Prophecy, and Music, and Art, and Healing, and so many other things that I’ve lost track of already,” said Apollo, slightly trembling. “We were friends. We were lovers.”

Zephyrus drank in the words. How he wished that he could have known Hyacinthus like that. How he wished now that he could know Apollo in the same way that Hyacinthus had, without the bluster and false confidence that hid something more precious underneath. “He never expected of me, unlike the others of our kind,” said Apollo.

Zephyrus raised his hand to Apollo’s cheek and stroked it, the backs of his fingers coming away wet. “Did you love him?” asked Zephyrus. He didn’t feel like he wanted to know the answer. He was afraid of the answer. Yet, some part of him _needed_ to.

“I did,” said Apollo, as the music reached a final, heart-wrenching crescendo, then faded away into silence. The quiet stretched for well over a minute as the darkness descended upon them again. Zephyrus, eyes closed, had not realized that Apollo’s godly side had been glowing. “I still do.”

Apollo opened his eyes and let go of the Valdezinator, done with the infernal instrument that had forced him to bare his heart to Zephyrus, and, to a lesser extent, Leo and Calypso. The instrument crashed onto the forest floor.

The brass funnel snapped off of the base with the grotesque shriek that came with metal tearing. The sound was still hanging in the air when Apollo shrugged off Zephyrus’ arms and shoved him, roughly, away.

Zephyrus was taken by surprise. The force of Apollo’s push topped him. He fell, and ended up on his back, wincing as he realized that something was broken again. Sometimes, he genuinely wished that his corporeal humanoid form was not so fragile. “Did you?” asked Apollo.

Zephyrus only smiled tenderly at the other god. “I did,” he said, echoing what Apollo had said mere moments past. Zephyrus raised a hand and placed it over his chest, right over the place where he’d struck himself with Eros’ arrow. “I still do.”

With no regret, Zephyrus released Apollo’s burning gaze and allowed his head to fall back. He looked at the magical dome that glimmered overhead and watched, with merely mild surprise, as the magic containing their little ragtag bunch began to unravel itself.

\----------

Hades, unsurprisingly, was every bit as stubborn as his son. Unfortunately for Nico, that meant that it was rather difficult to kick the Lord of the Dead out of his apartment. It had taken much longer than Nico had expected to get rid of Hades and Persephone. Hades was the more reluctant of the two.

Persephone had had to insist that Hades could come back the next day. The Lord of the Underworld wanted nothing more than to help Nico and Will get everything in their apartment units in order. Hades could _not_ stop talking about the ‘atrocious’ modern decor.

It wasn’t until Persephone had scolded Hades quite scathingly that he finally gave in to her wish to leave the two demigods alone. Hades was tiring out Nico in his enthusiasm to have his son back. It was understandable, and in some ways, it was endearing, for Nico, but he _did_ want his rest. It was only then that Hades accepted that he was getting kicked out of his son’s apartment.

Nico was amused with his father, though. He’d never thought of Hades as much of an interior decorator, and it was definitely the truth. He wasn’t very good at it. At least, not for the modern taste.

Hades kept insisting on candelabras and chandeliers made from bones or something of the sort. Nico had to hope that Hades would not, in the dead of night, steal into his apartment and change all the furnishings and decor to fit his tastes.

Nevertheless, Nico was quite glad to be rid of his father, if only for the night. He’d actually been looking forward to getting to spend some time with Will in privacy. The infirmary hadn’t really qualified as private. The alleyway before the feast hadn’t really been _that_ private either.

However, in the living room of his half the two-unit complex, Nico was finally sure that he and Will could converse in private. He still couldn’t quite believe he already had a place all his own. Living with Wyn early on had told him one thing: apartments were expensive.

Nico looked at Will, musing that he _finally_ had the time to talk more than one quick sentence with his boyfriend. However, as he looked at Will, he remembered that the son of Apollo had been looking more and more morose as Hades and Persephone bickered like the old, married couple that they were.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, Will dropped himself onto Nico’s couch. It was a large couch. It could have probably fit four or five people. It was upholstered in charcoal gray. Nico liked it a lot. He sat on the opposite end from Will and marvelled at how soft the cushions were.

Nico looked at Will. Will looked back at him, with a sadness that could not be missed in his eyes. “Are you alright?” asked Nico, breaking the half-minute of silence that followed. Nico was concerned, and he had every right to be. Will was now his boyfriend, after all. _That_ thought was still somewhat surreal for Nico.

Nico remembered that the last time he’d noticed Will’s sadness, things hadn’t really turned out that well afterwards. He wondered if this would be the first real test of their relationship. Sure, the Jason and Wyn issues had been _something_ , but Jason was a lovely guy, and Wyn was rather far in Nico’s past already. It had not really had the potential to grow into a big problem. Now, Nico wondered if Will would actually tell him what the problem was.

“It’s just,” said Will, a wishfulness in his voice, as Nico tried to not breathe a sigh of relief that Will was talking, “Just thought how lucky you are to have them.” Will tried a smile, but he failed miserably at it. “They’re a handful, sure,” Will said, reminiscing on the time he’d spent with Hades and Persephone as they taught him about the Underworld.

_Those_ memories managed to bring a smile to Will’s face. It was an inside joke. Mostly. Hades _was_ rather bullheaded, like his siblings, but more level-headed than either Zeus or Poseidon. Nico looked at Will curiously.

“But at least they’re _my_ handful, right?” said Nico. His voice was soft, gentle, and sympathetic. The last person he’d expected to have family problems was Will Solace, but then again, he supposed he should not have discounted it. After all, the last person he’d expected to have problems belonging was Will Solace, too.

Nico regarded Will for a moment. He had to wonder _why_ Will had family problems. It was then that he realized just how little he actually knew about his boyfriend.

“Yeah,” said Will. He shrugged almost nonchalantly. It was a problem that dwelt in the back of his mind. It wasn’t really something that he’d given thought to for a long time. “I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s stupid.” He looked down at his feet as though he was embarrassed to feel the way that he did.

“No, it’s not,” said Nico. He wanted to get closer to Will. He wanted to scoot across the couch and give his boyfriend a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, but the very thought seemed to sicken him, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to ward off the nausea.

“Yeah, it is,” said Will.

Gods knew how many times it had already happened that day, but it struck Nico, again, just how hypocritical Will could get at times about his advice, and the things he did. Will had apologized so profusely for dismissing Nico’s problems, during a moment of emotional vulnerability no less, when they’d first had an actual conversation. Now, Nico noted, Will was dismissing his own as mere trivialities.

Nico didn’t like the fact that Will seemed to think of himself as disposable, someone to fix other people’s problems, but not his own. Nico stayed silent. He didn’t want to say anything, just in case he said something he would later regret.

Nico was so quiet that Will had to look up. He had to check that Nico hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch. Nico was wide awake. The moment that Will raised his eyes, he met Nico’s gaze, and gulped audibly. “Okay, okay, fine,” he said, convinced at last to talk by the death-glare. “I’m…”

Will choked up. Nico frowned with concern. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pursued the matter. “I never really had that, you know?” said Will, finally. Nico frowned. “I mean, I’ve never had my parents fuss over me living on my own like that.”

Nico realized that he hadn’t really thought about why Will was a year-round camper before. “You know,” said Will, his voice heavy with sadness, but only slight bitterness, “All I’ve ever really been good at was healing. But then, I couldn’t even save my own mom,” said Will.

At first, Nico blinked, surprised. He had not thought that Will could possibly have had a mother like he did. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Will had a mortal parent, that probably wasn’t around anymore, going by Will’s words. Nico hadn’t thought about family in such a long time, that he’d forgotten that other people could have them, too.

“You couldn’t save her?” said Nico. Part of him wanted to drop the conversation already, but another part of him wanted to know, so that he could at least find out more about Will, and maybe learn how to comfort his boyfriend.

Nico’s eyes widened at a sudden epiphany. Was this the reason that Will didn’t really think of healing that highly? Why Will desired to be better at all the other talents that other children of Apollo had?

“Yeah,” said Will. His mother had died when he was at the precious, young age of fourteen. He’d been pretty banged-up about her death back then. He kept blaming himself for it. Over the years, he’d come to accept that at the time he had not had the powers nor the know-how to stop the cancer that had ravaged her.

“She died of cancer eight years ago,” said Will. The words tugged at Nico’s heart. Nico felt sorry for him. His mother had died so recently. Nico was surprised by the small smile tentatively dancing on Will’s lips. “Dad might be a goof,” he said, “but he did love her.” Will sighed. “He was there for her during her last days.”

Nico didn’t really know how to feel. He didn’t know what to say to Will. “It’s alright,” said Will. “It was so long ago that the pain is just like a ghost, now. I just feel sad about it sometimes, you know?”

The thing was, as much as his heart ached for Will, Nico didn’t really know the feeling of ‘just being sad’ or ‘ghost-like pain.’ Both sadness and pain tended to linger around much longer in him. “I just sometimes wish that I still had a family,” said Will.

“It’s okay.” Will’s tone of voice was reassuring. Nico had to admire him for that. Here he was, talking about his mother dying and talking about wanting a family, but still, Will put Nico first in his mind. Will laughed, though mirth was absent from the sound. “I told you it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” said Nico. He frowned at Will’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge that the problems he had were as significant and valid as the ones that Nico did. “You know you have a family, right?” said Nico.

“The Olympians?” Will said. He wasn’t very convinced about _that_ particular tidbit. Sure, the gods had improved a lot over the last three years, but Will wouldn’t have gone so far as to call them family already.

Hades had been rather kind to Will, he supposed. Sometimes, Will even thought that Hades was downright _fond_. Still, it didn’t quite give him the same sense of family that he could see between Hades, Persephone, and Nico.

“No,” said Nico. He gathered his courage and scooted closer to Will. He ended up moving about an inch, with a good two or three feet of space still between himself and his boyfriend. Will nonetheless appreciated the gesture. “Me?” said Nico, tentatively.

Both Nico and Will coloured. Will thought his ears were going to catch fire. Nico thought his cheeks were going to melt off of his face. “I-I…” said Nico, “I mean…” he was grasping for anything, an explanation for what he’d just blurted out.

“No need, Death Boy,” said Will. There was a hopefulness in his voice. Nico didn’t lash out at him, and Will sighed with relief. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” said Will. He managed to get the words out, even if he very nearly stammered them into incomprehensibility.

“Us lonely, fucked-up outcasts gotta stay together, right?” said Will. His voice lacked the mirth that would normally accompany such a joke.

“Right, sunshine,” said Nico.

Both young men thought about how tragic it was that the statement, for the two of them, wasn’t even that much of a joke. It was as much a statement of fact as it was one of jest. “I’d be glad to call you family, Nico,” said Will. Nico blushed more. “ _Now and maybe, in the more official way involving a ring, someday in the future if we survive,_ ” Will added silently.

Nico smiled sincerely at Will. “Can I get a hug?” asked Will. There was a hopefulness in his voice that just _broke_ Nico’s heart. Will flung his arms wide, expecting his boyfriend to at least give it a shot. Instead, Nico froze where he sat.

Nico _really_ wanted to oblige Will. He’d told Will that he wanted Will to be the exception to the no touching rule, after all. Yet, the whole day, Will had been seeing people touching Nico without him reacting with the same vicious discomfort as with Will.

“But…” said Will, looking quite hurt, when Nico didn’t move from his spot. He looked even more hurt when Nico said nothing, and just looked at him with wide, scared eyes. “You gave _everyone_ else a hug…”

Will thought about what he’d just said. Will looked at his hands and repeated the words to himself slowly. Then, Will’s head shot up. Nico nearly jumped. “You gave _everyone_ else a hug!” said Will. His eyes widened in horror. His voice was so alarmed that Nico couldn’t help but feel the same way.

“You were touching me earlier today,” said Will. “You even kissed me!” Nico and Will both blushed even deeper. Nico squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. The very thought of doing that again turned his stomach. “You told me I could maybe be an exception to the no touching rule. Something changed,” said Will, “What did?”

“I-I…” stammered Nico. He was at a loss for words. He sincerely didn’t know how to answer Will. He didn’t _have_ an answer for Will. “I don’t know…” he said, finally. His voice was soft and uncertain. “I-I…” Nico took a deep breath. He was trying to calm down, but it was easier said than done because of Will’s alarm.

“I thought I was mostly over the touch-aversion thing…” Nico said. He looked at Will apologetically, but Will’s eyes just got even more panicked. There was an explanation in his head that he kept trying to force away because he couldn’t believe it would happen to Nico.

“I…” Nico sounded downright afraid. Will frowned. Nico wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything! “Whenever I think of even coming close to you,” said Nico, “I get nauseous. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Will…”

“Wyn and I,” said Nico. Will’s eyes narrowed. There was a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind that the only possible person that can do something despicable to Nico and get away with it was someone that he had opened his heart to.

Will was already not liking this Wyn character very much, especially in light of the almost-adoring way that his name rolled off of Nico’s tongue. “We did a lot of things… I was really comfortable with everything we did…”

It clicked. Wyn. Three years past, Will knew that even though Nico had been more touch-averse then, he had not looked like he was going to throw up at just the thought of proximity with Will. Things were completely different now. It seemed as though the unease struck Nico only when there was the possibility of romantic affection from Will.

“Did Wyn do something bad to you, Nico?” asked Will. He was shaking. He was angry. He was almost afraid of Nico’s answer. He almost didn’t want to know Nico’s answer, but he knew that he needed to hear it. “Because if he did, I would beat him up… Somehow!”

Nico looked at Will as though he’d grown a second head. “What?” he squeaked. “Why would never do that to me!” said Nico, getting defensive of his ex-boyfriend. “He loved me! He treated me really well! We had good times together…” There was a puppy-like adoration in Nico’s words that made Will’s stomach turn. It wasn’t right.

“No,” said Will, “That’s not right…” He wasn’t buying it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Nico. It was that he thought that something was genuinely wrong. He wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t thought about it. He would have just chalked it up to Nico being uncomfortable about touching anyone in general, but that wasn’t the case.

It was as though it was Will’s touch specifically that seemed like poison to Nico.

Will would have been the first to admit that he wasn’t the best at spotting psychological afflictions. Still, he was pretty sure that there was something wrong with Nico’s head. Nico wasn’t reacting this way just out of nervousness. Nico had _kissed_ him, after all.

This was something more deeply rooted, Will was certain of it. It was what his gut was telling him. “There’s something wrong here,” said Will. Nico looked like he was about to get angry, but Will talked over what Nico had been about to say.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, Nico,” said Will. He knew better than to insinuate that. They were trying to build a relationship for goodness’ sake! “I’d trust you with my life,” he said.

“Then why are you implying that my ex-boyfriend, who was really good to me, did something bad?” demanded Nico. He wanted to know. All of his memories about Wyn were happy ones. Sure, some of them were fuzzy, but he’d been with Wyn for three months, almost three years ago. Those memories weren’t the clearest.

It never even struck Nico as odd, that only the good memories were the ones that he could remember.

“No, Nico,” said Will. “I know you. Probably not as well as I want to, but I know you enough to know that even if you don’t like being touched, it doesn’t make you literally sick to even _think_ of touching your boyfriend. You have to trust me, Nico. I think there’s something really, seriously wrong here. I can _feel_ it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *GASP* NEW CHAPTER NEW CHAPTER NEW CHAPTER!!
> 
> xD. I'm sorry. I got really excited to post this for a second. I'm still really sorry for having to make the updates once a week. I hope you didn't have to wait too long for this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. :3.
> 
> I'm just saying, expect the next leg of _The Years of My Longing_ to be a Hyacinthus/Zephyrus/Apollo storyline. :3. SO MANY PAIRINGS. *cough* Anyway. What do you think is going to happen next with Hyacinthus, Zephyrus, and Apollo? How about Nico and Will?
> 
> What do you think about our babies finally having a civilized conversation? XD. Who's up for a Will Solace masturbating to Nico di Angelo scene in a couple of chapters? :3.
> 
> Anyway. Leave a comment! I would love to read your thoughts and feedback. Of course, my tumblr is also open, so visit me at [Malkuthe Highwind!](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	19. To Set a Wrong Right

There was a long silence after Zephyrus admitted that he still loved Hyacinthus. It was testament, truly, to how the youth had captured both gods’ hearts that they still pined for him after so long. Perhaps it was also the fact that longing had only made them unable to come to terms with Hyacinthus’ death.

“And me?” asked Apollo, shattering the silence with two words spoken barely louder than a whisper. It was only a ghost of a voice. It was the kind of whisper that a person would expect, perhaps, from one of the _Anemoi_ , but not someone with as much bluster as Apollo.

Apollo wondered if asking the question of Zephyrus was even worth it. They both knew that Zephyrus had plunged the arrow of Eros into his chest, and looked at Apollo right after. They both knew that the arrows were irresistible by even the gods. They both knew that Eros was the protector of Homosexual Love, as well. If anything, there was no denying that if he hadn’t already been, now, Zephyrus was in love with Apollo.

Apollo decided that the question was not one worth asking, but he supposed he should have thought about that before speaking. If there was one thing that he inherited from his father, it was the capacity to act before thinking things through.

Zephyrus laughed. The sound was lilting and musical, and, for some bizarre reason, it tugged at Apollo’s heart. He wasn’t too happy at that. He had no desire to feel any affection whatsoever for the winged bastard that had cut short the life of his beautiful prince.

Zephyrus pushed himself to his feet and winced as he felt bones align from being popped out of sockets. His wings snapped back into place. “I was beginning to,” said Zephyrus softly.

It was difficult for Zephyrus to even begin to admit that he had already been feeling an attraction for Apollo before this whole fiasco with the Seekers and the Valdezinator, and the dome. The arrow had just been a formality, an act that he knew Apollo would not be able to deny. “I definitely do, now,” he said.

“Look,” said Apollo, taking a single step toward Zephyrus. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but if you believe that just because you—!” Apollo cursed when he felt something unbearably hot land on his shoulder.

Apollo was about to continue, when he felt the searing pain that was emanating from the spot that the thing, whatever it was, had landed on. Apollo looked down at his flesh and tried to shrug off the sparkling piece of the dome that had found its way there. It was stuck.

Apollo’s flesh was already blistering. The skin was sizzling, and the smell of cooking flesh filled the night air. If Zephyrus had not known it was Apollo, he would have mused about how wonderful the cooking meat smelled. Instead, he was concerned.

Apollo looked at his shoulder with alarm. He plucked the piece of the dome from his shoulder and flung it behind him with his godly half. It didn’t hurt his godly side one bit. A sickening crack filled the clearing, and Apollo looked up just in time to see a large piece of the dome, about as large as his head, plummeting toward him.

Since he’d looked up far too late, Apollo had no time to act before he was crushed by the damn thing. Thankfully, there was someone quite fast in the vicinity. Before Apollo could blink, Zephyrus was there, wings spread over Apollo’s head.

Zephyrus’ russet-coloured feathers formed a protective umbrella over Apollo, shielding him from the rain of magical dust from the dome, the smaller pieces, and the larger ones that broke off as the curse that held him confined began to melt away. The piece that Zephyrus had stopped slid off of his wing and onto the ground with a thud.

Once it was lying on its side, the shard of the dome exploded. It didn’t hurt, surprisingly enough. Instead it burst apart into countless pieces that turned into motes of light that danced and swirled and rose to the sky not unlike a swarm of fireflies.

The air was filled with the sound of the barrier cracking under the pull of gravity, now that the magic that sustained it was evaporating. Pieces continued falling around Zephyrus and Apollo. Calypso and Leo, while they were ignored by the other two, were protected by one of Calypso’s own barriers.

“Why did you do it?” asked Apollo. Under the shade of Zephyrus’ wings, Apollo felt as though the whole world had shrunken down to just the two of them all over again. “Why did you pierce yourself with the arrow if you said yourself that you were already falling for me?”

Zephyrus shrugged. “It was just a formality,” he said. Zephyrus recognized that falling for Apollo was an inevitability. It was probably the Fates’ design from the beginning. Perhaps it was even Eros’ design. He had suspected, from the time that his eyes had been drawn to Apollo so very long ago, that it would only be a matter of time before his own heart would be won by the same god that had made him commit murder in a fit of jealousy.

Apollo didn’t know what to say to that. He looked up at Zephyrus’ wings and noted that they didn’t seem to be showing any strain at all. Judging from the great bursts of light from around his feet, Apollo was fairly certain that the pieces falling from the dome overhead were rather large. “I thought your wings were very fragile?” he said.

Zephyrus tilted his head for a moment, curious that Apollo hadn’t pursued the matter of Eros’ arrow. “Oh, they are?” said Zephyrus. The sarcasm was palpable on his voice. Apollo, loathe as he was to admit it, found the sarcasm somewhat endearing. “I wonder what gave you that idea, Apollo. Was it the fact that every time you shoved me to the ground, something broke?”

Apollo didn’t know whether to laugh at Zephyrus’ quip, because his humour was rather impeccable, or to stomp on Zephyrus’ foot, because current circumstances probably weren’t the most appropriate for cracking self-disparaging jokes.

Apollo reflected that he didn’t really have any reservations about inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times before. He decided to laugh. Only, nothing came out.

“I did it,” said Zephyrus, answering the question that he was sure was on Apollo’s mind. “Because I knew you wouldn’t believe me otherwise, if I told you I had fallen in love with you.”

Apollo nodded. Now he saw the wisdom of the stunt with the arrow. He still, however, did not understand why Zephyrus was offering himself up so freely. Apollo simply did not know what to do. He wanted to understand, before he came to any conclusions. Gods knew how bad things often got by just jumping to conclusions, like Hera did to start the whole war with the Giants.

“I did it,” said Zephyrus, startling Apollo out of his thoughts. “Because I wanted you to get the revenge you wanted.” Apollo almost jumped into Zephyrus’ arms when a rather large dip grazed the top of his head, and a massive slab of the barrier slammed into the ground.

It erupted into motes of light that spiralled into the dark sky like embers from a bonfire. Apollo laughed half-heartedly. He didn’t know why he laughed. Zephyrus shook his wings. They rained down flecks of the barrier on Apollo’s godly side, but they bounced off harmlessly.

“I thought that if I gave you my heart, you would crush it again and again so that I can feel the pain that you felt when I made my mistake all those years ago,” said Zephyrus. There was genuine remorse in his voice, as well as determination. Even if Apollo did crush his heart repeatedly, Zephyrus knew that he would have accepted his ‘punishment’ without a second thought.

“I was thinking about it for some time,” said Zephyrus. Admitting his thoughts to Apollo was difficult, but as he spoke, it became easier. “I never forgave myself for that mistake I made so long ago,” said Zephyrus, “I killed an innocent young man with a bright future ahead of him because I was jealous. I deserve to be punished.”

Apollo was tempted to agree, but did Zephyrus, really? His thoughts wandered to Hyacinthus. He pondered how he’d not allowed Hades to claim the youth. In his sorrow, Apollo had not even considered what Hyacinthus would have wanted. Hyacinthus was a hero. He would have gone to Elysium.

Instead, Apollo did something selfish. He did not let death claim his prince. He trapped the boy in the land of the living. Unable to rest for so long as Apollo held on to his memory and did not allow death to take him. It was a fate worse than what Zephyrus had contrived.

If the West Wind deserved punishment, then, Apollo knew, so did he.

“Did you suffer, when he died?” said Apollo. Zephyrus folded his wings. The rustling of russet-coloured feathers was almost comforting in the biting cold of the night. Apollo looked up and saw that the dome was mostly gone.

What was left of it was already dissolving into flecks of light that drifted skyward in an enthralling dance.

“Who wouldn’t have?” said Zephyrus, in response. “I loved him. Of course I did.” Zephyrus placed a slender hand over his chest. “He chose you over me and in jealousy, I killed him.”

Zephyrus looked Apollo in the eye. The gaze went deep. It resonated with something at the core of Apollo’s essence. “I spent _centuries_ blaming myself for what happened to him. He was innocent. I destroyed his life. Now I know I destroyed yours, too. I can’t live without being punished for that.” Zephyrus lowered his eyes to the forest floor.

Apollo looked at Zephyrus, and found his opinions of the other god changing. He’d always thought of Zephyrus as vindictive. He’d never understood why the people always called him the gentlest of the _Anemoi_. Now he did, but more than that, he knew that Zephyrus was not only gentle, he was noble, too.

Still, the thought of Zephyrus tied up and begging for release flitted across Apollo’s consciousness. It was a fleeting thought. It was one that he pushed away as quickly as it had come, but not before his member twitched in approval.

Apollo would have to entertain that fantasy at some other time.

Apollo looked at Zephyrus and saw the remorse on the gentle creature’s face. “Then isn’t your suffering punishment enough?” asked Apollo.

Zephyrus raised his eyes to meet Apollo’s.

Hyacinthus was a sweet lad. Apollo knew that the boy would have never wanted to see Zephyrus or Apollo suffering on his account. Apollo knew that Hyacinthus would never have abode seeing them so torn up about him. Hyacinthus would never have let them be so sad. Hyacinthus would have wanted them to be happy.

Zephyrus tilted his head after a while. There was a curiosity to his actions. Apollo knew that Zephyrus was wondering why Apollo hadn’t yet done anything to make him hurt like he thought he deserved. Only, Apollo was now of the opinion that Zephyrus _didn’t_ deserve to be hurt like he thought.

Zephyrus nodded. “Maybe,” he said, willing to accept that perhaps centuries of pain was punishment enough for what he’d done. Still, he had done little to actually _atone_ for the bright future that he had ripped so carelessly from the young Prince of Sparta, and the love that he had denied the boy. “But I did a great wrong that still has to be set right.”

Apollo’s smile was small and sad. He reached up with one hand and gently stroked one of Zephyrus’ wings. Zephyrus shivered under the touch. “I did, too,” said Apollo.

“He’s still here.” Apollo’s smile was small and sad. “I bound him to this earth because I didn’t want death to take him.” Zephyrus’ face contorted in sadness. “You know the story,” Apollo said. The immortals rarely thought about the fate of the mortals they loved. It had never even crossed Apollo’s mind that he had practically forbidden Hyacinthus from taking his rest.

“Take me to him, Zephyrus?” asked Apollo, voice soft. He hoped that there was still enough power on his godly side that he would be able to free Hyacinthus’ spirit. “I need to set things right, too.”

\----------

Nico was speechless. He looked at Will. He genuinely had no idea how to respond. He hadn’t even had the chance to get a single word in. There was a dull anger bubbling up in the pit of Nico’s stomach, but he felt as though it was disingenuous. The anger didn’t _feel_ real.

Nico looked into Will’s eyes. He could see concern, but he couldn’t detect any jealousy. In the beginning, Nico had thought that Will was just blaming Wyn as an irrational attack on his previous relationship brought on by jealousy, but it didn’t seem like that was the case.

Nico sighed. He knew that Will was not going to let the matter rest until he either knew exactly what was going on with Nico, or he found out that he was utterly wrong. Nico couldn’t find it in himself to entertain the notion that Wyn did anything wrong to him.

However, as Will had pointed out, it _was_ rather strange that Nico remembered only the good memories, and even then, only fuzzily. He started to think deeper about his relationship with Wyn, but every time he did, the memories seemed to escape his discerning look. Nico frowned.

Maybe Will was right. Maybe there _had_ been something wrong with his relationship with Wyn. Nico didn’t know what to think. What if Wyn had forced himself on Nico and just made him think it was a good relationship? Nico dismissed the thought. It was ridiculous. Wyn was a mundane mortal.

Regardless, the sudden swell of nausea that washed over Nico with the thought of Wyn having possibly done something wrong to him made him uncertain. He was beginning to agree with Will. Nico frowned again. If his memories had indeed been tampered with, why would he want to know the truth?

Nico looked at Will. He concentrated on the thought of kissing his boyfriend again, and had to fight back the urge to throw up. _That_ was why he would want to know the truth, he mused. He loved Will, and he didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if he wasn’t able to show it.

Nico rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He looked back at Will and met the healer’s eyes. “Okay, Will,” he said. “I trust you.” Will smiled. Nico wasn’t so enthusiastic. It was far too late at night to even _bother_.

“Do you want to deal with this tonight?” Nico asked. Will furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. On the one hand, he wanted to give Nico his rest, but on the other, he didn’t want to leave Nico afflicted with whatever it was that was affecting him for one moment longer than necessary.

“Is that alright with you?” said Will. It was Nico’s turn to think about the matter. He decided that it was better to get it over with now than the next day. He was tired, so he was more complacent. He didn’t think he would have the patience to deal with anything come the morrow.

“Alright,” said Will, “wait here.” Will shot a concerned glance Nico’s way. Nico smiled reassuringly back at Will, even though that alone made him feel slightly light-headed. Whatever it was that was afflicting him, it was getting worse.

Will stumbled around the apartment. It stood to reason that every accommodation in Theopolis would have one of Iris’ newly-patented home-fountains. He just couldn’t find the one in the apartment. He was stumbling through the hallways of Nico’s unit, and even found himself, somehow, in the bathroom.

It wasn’t until three minutes later, when he found himself _back_ in what he’d _thought_ was the bathroom, that he realized that the place was actually the home-fountain. He smacked himself on the forehead and jangled the crystalline bell sitting next to what he’ thought was the sink.

A fine mist of water fountained out of the marble basin as Will sat down on the nearby chair—he’d thought it was the toilet. Will realized that the light in the room was coming from two gems set into the wall behind the basin. They shot light out into the mist, creating a rainbow.

“Hello, Will Solace,” said the voice of Iris as the goddess’ image swirled into view. Will gaped at the clarity of the image. It didn’t seem like it was much of a mist anymore. It looked as though he was staring right into a high-definition television screen. “Do you like it? The Hephaestus kids came up with the technology,” said Iris, “It’s fantastic. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Don’t I need to pay anything?” asked Will. The portable fountains in the cabins still required drachmas.

Iris laughed. “IM services are included in the monthly fees as well as property tax.” The goddess waved her hand and one of the sample lease documents drafted for the city appeared in her fingers. It was clearly outlined in the breakdown of the rent in the lease. There were a number of other things that Will didn’t quite catch, but he would have to deal with those at a later time.

“Oh,” said Will. He was feeling rather stupid for the second time since setting out to find the fountain. Of course the IM services were included in the rent. They were essential to communication. “Of course,” he said. “Can you put me through to Hades?”

Iris raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t always welcome, when a demigod sent an Iris Message to a god. “It’s urgent,” said Will. The look on his face must have been rather intense because Iris frowned and waved him through. Hades swirled into view.

\----------

Nico had to wonder what on earth Will was doing. There was a lot of banging around and cursing. He supposed his boyfriend was tripping over things a lot as he got used to the new space, but he sincerely hoped for two things: that one, his boyfriend was not breaking anything, and that two, Will wasn’t as big of an idiot as Percy.

Nico sincerely doubted that anyone could be as much of an idiot on the day-to-day as Percy, but he _had_ to hope. His luck wasn’t very good, after all. It wasn’t until three minutes later that he heard a string of curses followed by a crystalline ding. Whatever it was that Will had been looking for, it seemed like he’d found it.

Nico heard the spray of water from where he sat on the couch, and he had to wonder just _what_ it was that Will had been looking for. The moment a feminine voice started talking, Nico put two-and-two together and realized that Will was sending an Iris-Message. What didn’t make sense was the fact that Will seemed to be talking to Iris longer than necessary.

Nico couldn’t make out what was being said, but he was quite curious. He scooted over to the other side of the couch, where Will had been sitting, trying to catch the words, but Will was too far, and speaking too fast for him to understand.

The voice filtering in from the other side of the line, almost as animatedly as Will, Nico noted with dismay, was his father.

Nico slid back to his side of the couch and buried his face in his hands. Why did Will _have_ to go and talk to his dad? It wasn’t like they had only just spent half an hour trying to kick Hades out of the apartment.

Nico had barely been able to catch himself. He had been about to call the place a house, and even though the two joined apartment units would have counted as two houses, Nico didn’t want to think of sharing a house with Will just yet. Even without the nausea, the thought genuinely made him nervous.

Nico didn’t want to think about living together with Will just yet. It was a big commitment, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his side of it. Sharing a house meant sharing the labour of keeping the place clean, and Nico knew, despite having lived in Damasen’s hut for the last little while, that there would be days that he would just curl up in bed and do _nothing_.

Nico had to wonder if he and Will were moving too fast, but he was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of another crystalline ding and the realization that Will wasn’t talking anymore. Nico frowned and looked expectantly in the direction Will had left from. Moments later, the son of Apollo reappeared.

Will looked like he was about to say something, but before he could even get the chance to, there was an urgent knock on the door. Nico hadn’t even noticed that there was a front door leading into the living room, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. Will sighed and walked over to let their guests in.

The moment the door swung open, Nico gasped, his breath getting stuck in his throat. The first thing he saw was an intense blue gaze so azure that it felt like he was looking and falling into the sky. Nico blinked and tore his eyes away, only to get transfixed on a mop of hair that seemed like fine-spun gold.

Nico shook his head again and saw a face far more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. The face was so uncannily familiar that Nico felt simultaneously flustered and uneasy. His addled mind couldn’t figure out why the face looked familiar, but no sooner had he tried to pry his eyes away from the face, did he see a sculpted body that would have made him drool had he not had the restraint.

Nico blinked again, and saw that the man’s skin was wreathed in a golden radiance that just made him even more beautiful than he already was. The beauty was such that it was almost painful to look at.

One last thing caught Nico’s sight. It broke the enchantment that had befallen the son of Hades. A pair of wings that seemed so light despite looking as though they were made of solid, sparkling gold. Nico’s bated breath flowed out of him in a long, drawn-out sigh of want.

Nico shook his head, clearing it, for once. It was then that he realized why the man looked so familiar. The man had looked like a perfect, angelic version of Will Solace. It did nothing to comfort Nico. It was _eerie_.

The glamour faded, and Nico finally managed to think clearly. He realized that his jaw was slack, and his mouth was slightly agape. He clamped his jaw shut as he recognized who it was that had come.

Nico looked at Will expectantly. He wanted an explanation as to why Eros was here. Nico was pleasantly surprised by the sight of Will wide-eyed, slack-jawed and drooling. Anger melted away and Nico couldn’t resist snickering. Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw Eros smirk and bow.

Nico shook his head as Eros walked into the apartment. From behind him, a pale hand reached out and pinched Will’s upper arm. It was rather cruel, but it managed to do the job of kicking Will back into the world of the living. The son of Apollo yelped in pain and glared at the owner of the hand.

Will blushed furiously as the world came into focus again, and instead of an angelic, perfect, sculpted, naked Nico, he saw Eros. Will was speechless. He just rubbed his throbbing upper arm. The gods often underestimated their strength. The ‘pinch’ Hades had given him felt more like a manticore sting.

Hades stepped into the room just as Will gathered his wits about him. The healer looked at the Lord of the Dead and frowned. He looked at Nico. Nico looked back at him with pleading. Whatever it was that Eros, Nico and Will had to talk about, Nico didn’t want his father involved.

Will nodded at Nico and started pushing Hades out of the apartment. Hades was so confused by being manhandled by the boy he had already started thinking of as his future son-in-law that he barely put up a fight. Will closed the door behind him.

Nico and Eros exchanged looks as the muffled sound of argument exploded from outside. Nico couldn’t make out what Will was saying, nor could he make out what his father was saying. The door swung open and Eros had to jump to the side to avoid being knocked down.

“Nico! Tell your dad you don’t want him here and that we’re going to tell him what we find out as soon as we can!” said Will. Will’s body was facing one side of the door. Both his arms were also extended in that direction. His legs were dug into the ground, as though he was trying to keep someone from getting in front of the door.

Will’s efforts were in vain. It was a losing battle. “No! You want me here, right, son?” said Hades, persevering and pushing Will out of the way and into a bush, that Nico hadn’t even known was there, to stand triumphant in front of the door.

Nico had no idea how to respond. He didn’t think he had it in his heart to tell his father off, but fortunately for him, he didn’t have to. There was a bright flash from outside the apartment, and a slender hand reached out to tug at Hades’ ear.

Hades turned and paled. Even more than normal. He cursed and yelped as he was pulled out of the way, ear-first, by none other than Nico’s step-mother. “Hello there, my little dandelion,” she said, “I’ll make sure your father behaves.”

With that, both Persephone and Hades vanished in another flash of light, leaving Will to slam the door shut once he came back into the apartment. Will was picking out twigs and leaves from his hair.

Will looked at Nico and said flatly, in all seriousness, “You know what I said about you being lucky to have them?” Nico nodded slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure what Will was getting at. “I take it back. I feel sorry for you.” Will cracked a smile, though Nico was pretty sure that the joke was half-meant.

The sad thing was that Nico entirely understood why Will would think that. If there had been any doubt in his mind before where his stubbornness came from, there definitely wasn’t any now. Eros clearing his throat distracted Nico from his thoughts.

As Nico looked at Eros, he was struck by how different the Greek manifestation of Love was from the Roman. He also realized just how _painfully_ attractive Eros was. From the look on Will’s face, he thought the same thing. Will shook his head and sat down on the couch opposite from Nico.

Nico, much to his own chagrin, couldn’t help but stare at Eros. He was handsome, similar to Cupid, but without the harshness. His eyes were red like Cupid’s but they weren’t sharp, nor did they look quite as cruel. His body looked like it was sculpted from marble, so well-defined that Nico was tempted to run his hands all over Eros’ musculature.

Eros was wearing a button-up shirt that was not buttoned-up. At all. It hung open, revealing his bare chest. Eros was wearing a pair of white pale jeans that weren’t tight, but still accentuated his figure.

Eros grinned. He knew that Nico was checking him out. He turned around and spread his snowy white wings, teasing Nico with the way that he gracefully fanned them out. Nico’s eyes followed the back of the wings, and slid down Eros’ back.

Nico blinked, then blushed, when he realized that Eros was wearing a jockstrap. He knew this because he saw the top of the cleft of Eros’ ass underneath the thick garter of the jockstrap. “I knew I would get you both with that glamour earlier,” said Eros with a giggle that snapped Nico out of his reverence for Eros’ beauty.

Nico shook his head, feeling ashamed that he had checked out another man in the presence of his boyfriend. “My dear,” said Eros, with a gentle smile, “It’s perfectly fine to look, as long as you don’t touch without permission. Right?” Nico heard an audible gulp from Will. Will nodded.

“Well,” said Eros, once both young men were broken from their enchantment with his beauty. “As you can see, I’m not Cupid. Love should never be harsh,” said Eros. “Not that I’m particularly harsh as Cupid, but let me tell you boys, those Romans sure are sticklers for discipline.”

Eros waggled his eyebrows. The double-entendre flew right over Nico’s head, but Will blushed even deeper at the suggestion. He would never, ever, _ever_ admit that at that moment, the image that had crossed his mind was of Nico tied up and being teased relentlessly.

“Now,” said Eros, voice turning grim, “I sense tension between you two.” Eros looked at Nico. “And it’s because of you, but it’s not your fault.” Nico blinked. He supposed he should not have been expecting to tell Eros anything. Eros was the god of Love, after all.

“It’s also the fact that I’m the protector of Homosexual Love, Nico,” said Eros with a smile. “You were right to call me,” said Eros, looking at Will. “There is indeed something wrong here.”

Nico blanched. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but he definitely had not expected that Eros would take one look at him and say that something was wrong.

Nico had to admit that some part of him was hoping that Eros would come, listen to the story, and say that Nico was just feeling nervous because of the sudden prospect of romance, but that was not the case.

“Do you mind?” said Eros, gesturing toward the nearby recliner. Nico shook his head. He’d lost the ability to speak yet again. Eros waved his hand. The coffee table slid out of the way, and the recliner slid into position across from Nico. Eros sat down.

Eros was frowning. Nico didn’t think that was a good sign. If a god looked perturbed, then there was definitely cause for worry. Surprisingly enough, Nico felt rather calm. He looked over at Will. There was worry written all over his boyfriend’s face. If he didn’t know better, it looked like Will was about to throw up from the anxiety.

“Give me your hands,” said Eros. Nico didn’t know if Eros had charmspeak, but he felt himself compelled to do what the god told him. He had very little fight left in him. His hands found Eros’ and the god smiled.

“Close your eyes,” said Eros, closing his own. Nico looked at Will. Now he was beginning to feel nervous. Some part of him didn’t want to know what Eros would uncover. “Nico,” said Eros, “I can tell what you desire. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can work on getting it.”

“Alright,” said Nico. Will’s expression was one of encouragement, even though Nico could see that there was anxiety underneath it, as well. Nico smiled, trying to be strong. He closed his eyes.

Immediately, he opened them again. Eros had let go of his hands, and was scrambling away from Nico. The recliner tipped over backward, sending Eros spilling onto the floor of the living room. “By the gods,” whispered Eros. “He’s alive…”

Nico and Will shared a worried look. “What do you mean, he’s alive?” asked Nico.

“My son. My darling son Wyn.” The winged god was weeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour mes amours. <3.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. I know I loved it. You know what else I love? The gods being distressed. One thing that's often discounted about Greek Mythology and polytheistic religion in general, is the fact that the gods are _human_. They never call themselves bullshit things like perfect, omnibenevolent, omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. I'm looking at you Abrahamic religions. Anyway, I digress. xD. The gods of Greece are human in many respects, other than their power and their immortality. They are vulnerable to the same things we are. I like to exemplify that in my work.
> 
> Needless to say, what do you think is going to happen now? :3. What will Eros discover? What did you think of Eros making himself rather attractive for both Will and Nico? I sure had a laugh at that scene. :3. What do you think Zephyrus and Apollo will do for Hyacinthus? :D.
> 
> As always, leave a kudos if you like the story. Leave a comment if you love me. <3\. I always love reading your thoughts. :3.
> 
> I'm in need of a beta-reader again, by the way. If you're interested shoot me an e-mail at malkuthehighwind@gmail.com with the subject [BETA-READER].
> 
> My tumblr is also feeling lonely, so if you have any questions, drop them by [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr!


	20. That Once-Prince of Sparta

There was only one word that could adequately describe the silence that followed Eros’ complete and utter breakdown in front of Will and Nico: deafening. Nico was in shock. His mouth hung slightly ajar. His eyes shone with disgust and sheer terror.. He felt numb all over. He could barely remember to breathe, much less put together the brainpower to process what had just been said.

Will, on the other hand, not privy to the turmoil going on in Nico’s mind, was treated to the rather sobering fact of just how _human_ the gods actually were. Never in his life had he thought he would see a god afflicted by an emotional breakdown. Now he was seeing it happen before his very eyes, from one of the gods he least expected it from, no less. The sound of Eros weeping in a mixture of grief and relief on the floor was haunting.

“What?” said Nico. The word came slowly. His voice came out quietly. It was barely a whisper in the air. He simply couldn’t imagine that what Eros was saying was true. He had never once suspected that Wyn could have been a demigod, much less a Greek one.

The fact that Wyn was five years older had only helped to conceal the fact from Nico. That a demigod at twenty-five had survived the whole time without being shown to either one of the camps was unheard of. “Wyn is your son?”

There was horror in Nico’s voice. The sickening thought that nothing he’d ever shared with Wyn, from the almost-sordid attraction he’d felt when their eyes had first met, was false, crept into his mind. Nico groaned as he was assailed by a splitting headache. He clutched his temples and folded over himself, trying to get away from the pain.

Eros composed himself. A slender hand came up to his face and wiped away the tears that were left on his cheeks. The rest of them remained shimmering in his eyes, unshed. Now was not the time to let his emotions rule him. Eros rose to his feet and faced Nico. He picked up the chair and set it back in place, looking at Nico with concern.

The pain throbbing behind Nico’s eyes was crippling. It felt almost as though there was something inside of him that was fighting tooth and nail against the very _idea_ of doubting that what he had with Wyn was anything but the most real and most powerful of loving bonds. “Nico,” said Will, sliding closer to the son of Hades, “Are you alright?”

Eros held out a hand. He didn’t want Will to even try. “No,” said the god, “Don’t.” Eros wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought it better to stop Will than to risk triggering even more pain for Nico. “It will only make things worse,” said the god. “I know you want to help, but the best you can do right now is keep quiet.”

“But—” said Will, trying to creep closer without Eros noticing. He didn’t think it was right for the god to bar him from trying to help Nico, especially after the son of Hades had just returned. Will was afraid that Nico might vanish again.

“Will Solace,” said Eros, his voice stern, “I expected you to know better.” The god snapped. He mused that he probably should not have been so terse with Will, but he was struggling enough as it was to keep his own emotions in check. Eros had, after all, believed for the past two decades or so that his son Wyn was dead.

Eros looked deeply into Will’s eyes. It was a challenge. “He’s starting to doubt that anything he had with my son was even real. He’s starting to doubt that _anything_ is real. That’s why he’s in pain. I think there are compulsions in on his consciousness, and they’re warring against the doubt and confusion. Do you think,” said Eros, looking at Will with greater intensity, “Do you think that having his current boyfriend to add to the confusion will help?”

Will had to admit that he hadn’t thought of that. He pondered Eros’ words for a moment. He decided they were right. His presence would only make Nico’s already-fragile psyche even more confused. “Let him be,” said Eros with a gentle voice, “I’ll take care of him.”

Will nearly jumped when he felt Eros’ hand on his shoulder. The touch was tender. He had been so focused on looking at Nico, who was folded in half over his stomach, groaning into the space between his knees, that he hadn’t noticed Eros approaching him.

Will looked up to say something, but found himself without a voice. He saw, instead of Eros’ face, Nico’s. He saw Nico smiling. Laughing. Teary-eyed with mirth. The sight tugged at his heart, but only left him confused when it dissolved to reveal a sympathetically smiling Eros. “You’re a good lad, Will,’ said the god.

“Maybe someday you’ll get to see him happy, but if you don’t trust me, it might not be for a while.” Eros’ words were tender. They were gentle, even. Still, they did little to calm Will’s raging heart. He didn’t want to leave Nico’s well-being to anyone but himself, but he recognized that in this matter, he had little choice.

If there was anyone that could help Nico, Will knew, it would be Eros. Eros, after all, was not just the god of Love. He was also the _protector_ of Homosexual Love. Will could only hope that the god would see what he had with Nico as genuine and sincere.

Will could only hope that Eros could resolve whatever it was that was causing Nico so much pain. He looked at Nico. There was pain in his own eyes. It _hurt_ to see Nico like this. “Alright,” he said, looking with pleading eyes at Eros. “Please, help him.”

Eros looked at Will with a gentleness that, for a few moments at least, let his thundering heart calm in his chest. “I will try,” said the god. For a moment, Will thought he saw sorrow in Eros’ eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

“Nico,” said Eros, taking his place back on the recliner opposite the son of Hades. “Nico, can you hear me?” he said. There was concern on Eros’ voice. It was more than Will had expected.

Part of Will suspected that it was, in part, because Eros wanted to know more about this apparently long-lost son of his.

“Please…” groaned Nico. Nico didn’t look up from where he had folded over himself. “Please make it stop…” he begged. Nico’s fingers dug even deeper into his scalp. The pain of his fingers against his head didn’t compare to the pain within it.

The sounds that Nico made were so hideous and pitiful that Will had to get up and leave the room. He couldn’t bear to see Nico in such a state. He came back a heartbeat later, having realized that he couldn’t abide the thought of _leaving_ Nico in such a state either.

Will found that his hands were trembling even more now than they had been all those years ago, when he’d first had Nico in the infirmary. He shoved a fist into his mouth, as far as it could go, to stop himself from saying anything or blurting anything out that could make things worse for Nico.

Will started pacing. He tried his best to be quiet. He sincerely had no idea what else to do.

Eros could see Will pacing from the corner of his eye. It was annoying, but he couldn’t begrudge the boy the one thing that was probably keeping him sane. “Nico,” said the god. He had not wanted to compel Nico into doing what was needed, but Eros felt like he had no choice. “Give your hands to me, now.”

Eros blinked in surprise. Instead of loosening their grip around Nico’s temples, Nico’s fingers just dug into his scalp even deeper. “Nico!” said Eros, just as Will started making small sounds of distress because it looked like Eros’ control over the situation was slipping. “Hands. Now.”

The compulsion washed over Nico. Thick waves of power crashed against his consciousness, and he _keened_ from the pain that it caused him. Will found the sound so fucking disturbing that he had to step out of the living room a second time. He returned half a heartbeat later when he heard the sound of a miniature explosion.

Will could barely contain himself when he saw the carnage. Eros was on the floor. Streamers of black mist curled from his body. The back of the recliner was broken, a splintered mess underneath Eros’ feathery wings. The god himself seemed to be unconscious. Will lost control. He gasped, and started to run toward Nico.

Will stopped himself at the last moment.

Will surveyed the situation. It was their first _night_ , _just_ a couple of hours, in their new apartments, and already, trauma was happening, gods were being blasted with strange magic, and furniture was being destroyed. Will couldn’t help but think that it was definitely not a great start to what was supposed to be at least a few weeks of happiness.

“No,” said Eros, startling Will from his thoughts. The god staggered to his feet and waved the ruined recliner away. Will wished that Eros could just get rid of the ruined furniture altogether, but instead the debris was merely swept into a corner by an unseen force. “He’s not calming down,” said Eros, “Maybe you can help.”

“But—” said Will. He was no longer certain if he could trust Eros’ judgement.

“I know what I said!” Eros’ eyes flashed at Will. The god was daring the boy to say anything else to contradict his words. Fortunately, he didn’t have to use charmspeak on Will. Unlike Nico, who’d grown out of the fear of the gods, Will was still one of those campers wary around them. “I was wrong,” said Eros.

Will looked at Eros. He still wasn’t sure it would be a good idea for him to get close to Nico, but he relented. The look on Eros’ face told him that he didn’t have much of a choice, and that it was also necessary. Will sat down about a foot from Nico.

Nico was bent over himself, shivering. His fingers were digging into his scalp. Will could tell, with much alarm, that just a little more and he would be drawing blood. “Nico,” Will said, placing a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico, it’s me, Will…”

Perhaps Will gotten through to the small part of Nico’s will that wasn’t affected by the layers upon layers of compulsion that Wyn had forced on the son of Hades, or perhaps he _really_ did have a calming touch, but the fingers around Nico’s temples loosened. A moment later, Nico looked up, blinking owlishly in the sudden light at Will.

“Will?” said Nico. His voice was small, and scared. “Are you real?” he asked. He reached out with fingers splayed to touch Will’s face, but he stopped just short. He recoiled his hand, seizing it back to his chest, and looking at it with fear. “I don’t know what’s real anymore…” he said, softly. His whole worldview had been shaken.

Will struggled with himself. There was something that his gut was telling him to do, but he had promised Nico that he wouldn’t force anything. Will looked helplessly at Eros. Eros returned the look with a determined gaze.

Will knew that he was probably going to regret it later, if not because Nico would call him out on it, but because the guilt of doing so would consume him. He leaned in and pressed an earnest kiss to Nico’s lips. When he drew himself back, his lips were tingling pleasantly.

Nico’s lips must have felt the same because he raised two fingers to his lower lip, feeling it almost inquisitively. “I’m real,” said Will, squeezing Nico’s shoulder. “Focus on your lips…” said Will, blushing. “And mine. This is right now. This is real. Okay?” he said.

Nico nodded. He was uncertain, but he trusted Will. He _knew_ he could trust Will. He turned to Eros, breath hitching in his throat as he very nearly had another breakdown. Eros’ face was flickering erratically between his own, Will’s, and a sharper, more cruel version of Wyn’s.

“Your hands, Nico,” said Eros, snapping Nico out of whatever illusion he’d found himself mired in. Eros was mentally slapping himself. He should have considered that Nico’s subconscious could have known of the compulsions. He should have considered that Nico might subconsciously lash out.

Eros had been far too eager to find some information about his lost son that he had forgotten the purpose of his visit: to help Nico with whatever was afflicting him. He watched as Will placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder and squeezed to remind his boyfriend that he was still there, an anchor to the real world.

Nico was uncertain and afraid, but Will’s touch gave him strength. For the moment, at least. He placed his hands in Eros’ and watched in alarm as the world around him dissolved into darkness. “W-where am I?” he said.

It was a question Nico had meant for Eros, but what he found was that only a swirling darkness surrounded him. The place reminded Nico of Tartarus, a place that was, strangely enough, no longer traumatic for him. Instead, it was more comforting, bringing back memories of a home he’d shared with Iapetus and Damasen.

“A manifestation of your heart and your memories in a way that your mortal mind could comprehend,” said Eros, materializing in front of Nico. The son of Hades was barely surprised. He didn’t even flinch. “It’s not dark because you’re a son of Hades,” said Eros with a chuckle, “It’s dark because we haven’t gone anywhere yet.”

\----------

Nico found himself wanting to retch by one side of the swirling void of darkness. He fought the desire. He fought the nausea. He didn’t want to show more vulnerability in front of Eros than he already had. Granted, he’d revealed his deepest, darkest, dirtiest secret to _Cupid_ , but the point still stood.

Still, it was difficult to fight the queasiness that was threatening to overwhelm him. Streaks of light and colour began to manifest in the darkness. The circled Nico. They bled into the sky above. They bled into the ground below. It was disorientating, and for a moment, Nico had to wonder why there were three Nico’s in his vision.

The image snapped into clarity moments later. Perhaps ‘image’ was not the best term to describe the almost-fantastical world that Nico had stepped into. It was a living, breathing world, and he was just a spectator. It was a memory being re-lived.

The scene was familiar. Nico had been in it a hundred times before. At least he thought he’d been in it a hundred times before. Nico, Eros, memory-Wyn, and memory-Nico were all in Wyn’s apartment.

Eros stood across from Nico. He was exactly where he’d been when he first appeared in the darkness that had preceded this eerily familiar scene. Still, despite the god’s beauty, and his majestic wings, what caught Nico’s attention was not Eros. He caught his own attention, or at least, his memory-self caught his attention.

Memory-Nico was draped across Wyn’s lap. He was idly playing with one of the drawstrings of Wyn’s sweatpants. The Welshman was, of course, in his typical style, wearing one of his many, _many_ cardigans. Memory-Nico and Memory-Wyn were watching a movie. Again, it was something that Nico at least _thought_ had happened hundreds of times.

Nico tore his eyes away from his memory-self. The scene playing out was so painfully domestic that he couldn’t help but wonder if he and Will would ever have the time and peace to enjoy such a thing. A night splayed on a couch, watching this bizarre thing called Netflix that turned your home into a veritable cinema, without a care in the world about monsters or magic or vengeful gods, was something that Nico found himself longing for.

Nico wondered if he should have just stayed in Wales. Maybe he would have gotten to know the life of a mundane human. He _had_ loved Wyn, in his own way. Perhaps he could have learned that to love Wyn more than he did Will. Perhaps he could have led a life in peace with the Welshman. Perhaps.

Nico’s sense of duty had ruined all that.

Nico blinked and turned his attention to Eros. Much to his surprise, the god was reaching out tentatively for Wyn with tears in his eyes. Eros jumped. It was almost as though Nico’s attention alone had been enough to shock him. He had to wonder if he wielded power in this place because it was, technically, his mind.

Nico looked around. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. He saw nothing particularly wrong. The place was cozy. The memory looked perfectly fine. The memory didn’t even seem _too_ perfect as to warrant suspicion. Nico had to wonder if he was just being paranoid about his relationship with Wyn being farcical.

Nico turned back to Eros. There was a sad smile on the god’s face. There was a sparkle of pride in his eyes that was dulled by anger, and shame. Nico was about to ask when Eros waved his hands.

Nico’s eyes immediately snapped to the space between Eros’ fingers. He’d not even noticed that there were blurred tendrils that were flickering at the edge of his consciousness. He had not even noticed that they were bothering them. Yet, the moment that Nico turned his attention to them, they came into sharp clarity.

Eros was holding, in his hand, a mass of what seemed to be wriggling red ribbons. Nico wondered what they were. He found out soon enough. Those ribbons were the compulsions. Eros tugged on them, wings fluttering from the effort.

Nico felt the pressure rise behind his eyes. He swayed dangerously sideways. Eros looked apologetically at him, but at the same time, told him of the necessity of what was being done. Eros pulled again.

Nico wanted to scream something. He wanted to tell Eros to stop. His throat wasn’t working.

Nico tried to will his voice to be projected through the memory, but nothing came, or at least, nothing that was audible. Eros pulled a third time. Nico sank to his knees as the pain built up in his skull. Eros tugged, grunting with the effort. The pressure was immense. It was excruciating. Eros pulled a final time.

Something came loose.

The memory-world _shattered_.

Nico found that he was the source of the cracks that were beginning to spread through the reality of the memory-world. Well, his memory-self was the source. The cracks spider-webbed out from a perfectly circular fracture that ringed where his memory-self’s heart would have been.

The way that the cracks spread through the fabric of the memory-world’s reality was eerie. They made no sound. They didn’t even seem to disturb anything. It looked, to Nico, as though he was watching a silent film where the film itself was being torn apart, except the television and memory-Nico and memory-Wyn were not muted.

The rifts were gruesome to look at. For a moment, Nico couldn’t bear to see them, but as soon as he turned his back, he realized that they were spreading _everywhere_. No matter where he turned, the very fabric of the memory-world itself was coming apart, revealing a different memory-world underneath.

Nico suspected that the other memory buried underneath this one was the true memory. A small part of him did not want to tread into that territory. Some small part of him was afraid of what he would learn. He was afraid that whatever dwelt underneath this memory-world would change him, and ruin things between him and Will irrevocably.

The look that Eros shot Nico as the thought crossed his mind was encouraging, but did little to allay his fears.

In some places, Nico realized, it was easier to look. The false memory-world above did not seem to be very different from the true memory-world underneath. Here and there, a pair of pants was misplaced. There was a darker patch of ceiling. Furniture was moved a tiny bit to the left.

Regardless, the thought of Nico’s memories being false _hurt_ him. The memory-world almost seemed to throb in response to his pain.

Nico decided, despite the haze of agony caused by the relentless pressure behind his eyes, to look at the cracks.

Unfocused, the rift Nico had turned his attention to seemed almost fuzzy. Yet, when he focused on it, it snapped into clarity, just like the tendrils in Eros’ hand earlier. The rift itself seemed somewhat plain. A small part of Nico couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed. A crack in reality _had_ to be more than just a _crack_ , after all.

The rift was difficult to comprehend because it seemed the world itself had split apart, yes, but it was no different from seeing a different page in a book because the one on top of it had ripped. The crack itself was clean. It wasn’t jagged. It wasn’t particularly _interesting_.

What _was_ interesting was the area just outside the crack. It seemed almost like a festered wound, only worse. The reality of the memory-world at the edges of the rift bubbled and hissed. It took on a tinge similar to the ribbons in Eros’ grip.

Nico turned his attention away. The crack he’d been looking at became fuzzy and unfocused again. He looked around and realized that the cracks were still spreading. They spread. They spread. Eventually, they stopped. The pain behind Nico’s eyes vanished as soon as they did.

Nico staggered back to his feet just as Eros fished out one particular ribbon from the wriggling mass in his hands. He released the others. They snapped back into the fabric of the memory-world and began to repair the cracks. Nico felt the pressure behind his eyes begin to return, but slowly.

Eros followed the ribbon. It led to the circular fracture around Nico’s memory-self’s heart. Satisfied that he had the right one, the god pulled with all his strength.

A moment of excruciating pain the likes of which Nico had never known sent him staggering forward. The agony evaporated almost instantly, but when he looked up, the ribbon vanished in a puff of crimson smoke from Eros’ hand. The piece of the world that had been anchored to his memory-self’s chest fell. The memory-world began to _shake_.

_Everything_ literally began to fall apart.

The cracks stopped repairing themselves. They widened instead, only this time, they weren’t spreading the world apart to reveal the world underneath, they were consuming it. The part of the memory-world around Nico’s memory-self fell apart, revealing the truth that was hidden by layer upon layer of compulsion.

Nico very nearly threw up. The remnants of the false memory-world blew away like ashes in the wind, revealing the sordid truth of his relationship with Wyn.

The nausea that Nico experienced no longer came from some part of him hidden beyond reach by the compulsions that Wyn had forced on him. This nausea came from what he saw in front of him.

Nico’s memory-self was naked. He was kneeling in front of Wyn. He was sucking the Welshman’s sizable cock. He was wearing nothing but an acrylic chastity cage, a tail-shaped rubber buttplug, and a heavy, black leather collar with a d-ring in front around his neck.

As Nico’s memory-self sucked on memory-Wyn’s manhood, the lock on the chastity cage clicked again and again on the acrylic shell. Each time it did, Nico felt as though a hammer was being taken to the side of his head. The rubber tail embedded in his ass swayed from side to side as his memory-self made happy sounds and looked up at Wyn with adoring puppy-like eyes.

It was only when  he heard the strange tinkling that he realized, to his horror, that the silver skull pin that he’d had for the longest time had originally been a pendant, a tag fixed on the collar.

Nico tore his eyes away from the sight. He could not abide it. He looked at Eros, petrified where he stood by the horror of the violation of his body and mind that he was witnessing.

Nico felt dirty. He felt used. Violated. The fact that he was feeling a little bit aroused, through no fault of the compulsions, but by his own predilections only made matters worse.

There was a sorrowful look on Eros’ eyes as he saw the barriers that kept Nico’s mind safe from the trauma of what he’d experienced at Wyn’s hands began to fall away. The fight, horror, and disgust in Nico’s eyes began to leach away, replaced by a blank numbness as Nico sagged to the floor.

Eros reassured himself that it was for the best as the memory-world shifted again around him. Nico _needed_ to see the truth of his relationship with Wyn, no matter how painful it was, no matter how violated it made him feel.

This was the truth, and as painful as it was, it was the only way Nico would heal.

\----------

Travelling to the Ancient Lands was probably not a very good idea. Zephyrus, however, could not abide the fact that Hyacinthus was still trapped in the mortal world, his spirit unable to move on to Elysium. He was sure that Apollo could no longer stomach the idea, now that the consequences of what he’d done so long ago had dawned on him.

Besides, Zephyrus didn’t think that he could truly deny Apollo’s wishes any more than he could deny Hyacinthus. His heart was captive now. He would do anything for Apollo. He would do anything for their prince. If it meant braving the Ancient Lands, then consequences be damned.

God and half-god turned to Calypso and Leo. Leo gulped audibly. It was Zephyrus that spoke. “Would you be so kind as to tell the Hunters that I am taking Apollo to see Hyacinthus?” he said. Calypso nodded. “We’ll meet you back at Theopolis.”

Zephyrus flashed a brief and sympathetic smile at the two. He hated to leave them like this, but neither he nor Apollo could wait any longer. They still dearly loved Hyacinthus, and the thought of his spirit toiling still in the mortal world was almost nauseating.

A heartbeat later, Zephyrus and Apollo were gone. They were blown into the wind like ashes.

Zephyrus was not aware that people could speak while being transported in his preferred fashion, but Apollo, apparently, could. “This is new,” he said, with a characteristic smirk in his voice. “I could get used to this. So much more relaxing than travelling by light.”

Zephyrus blinked in surprise. Apollo was, after all, only half-god at the moment. _No one_ should have been able to speak while scattered into particles of air. It seemed, almost, to Zephyrus that Apollo was strong-willed enough to project his voice through the dispersion.

Zephyrus tried to speak but only a whisper came out. The pathetic sound was drowned out by the noise of the world below as it zoomed past them.

It was almost an hour later when Zephyrus and Apollo finally arrived at their destination. They were at a small village now known as Amykles. It was known as Amyclae to the Greeks that lived there long ago.

Apollo felt a painful tug in his chest as he looked around the village. Though much had changed from the ancient times, the place was still familiar enough to give Apollo pangs of longing.

The village was so different from the ground, Apollo mused. He had only ever seen it from the Chariot of the Sun, never daring, nor wanting, to visit the village in person. He’d been so afraid of feeling the pain of the day that Hyacinthus had died that he’d been afraid of the village itself.

Now that Zephyrus he and Zephyrus had talked, Apollo had no need to feel that fear anymore. He _already_ was feeling the pain of the day of Hyacinthus’ death all over again. More than that, however, was the pain of the realization that in his grief, he had consigned Hyacinthus to a fate that was perhaps worse than death.

Apollo turned around as Zephyrus re-materialized from the wind. He faced the god. There was the same look of conflict, familiarity, and pain on Zephyrus’ face.

Apollo didn’t know what to think of Zephyrus anymore. It had been so much easier to hate him when he had been just another faceless enemy for Apollo.

Now that he knew the West Wind better, Apollo was coming to realize that Zephyrus was a kindred spirit to him. He had never thought it would happen, but it did. He and his greatest rival for Hyacinthus’ heart had been drawn together by their shared grief for that once-prince of Sparta that they had both coveted so many years ago.

Apollo shuffled where he stood uncomfortably. “Do you know where he is?” he asked. His voice was almost timid. He no longer remembered the exact spot where he’d drawn the flowers out of the blood-watered earth.

Zephyrus shook his head sadly. He had tried to find the original patch of flowers, the ones that had been _Hyacinthus,_ when he yet lived, but he had not managed even that.

“I don’t know _where_ he is,” said Apollo, finally, after a moment of silence.

Zephyrus frowned. Why, then, had they come all the way to Amyclae? To the Ancient Lands?

“But I do know how to find him,” said Apollo. His tears had stained the petals of the flowers that he had created. Life from Hyacinthus’ death. They were a sign of his grief, but more than that, his tears had ensured that some part of him would _always_ remain with the once-prince of Sparta.

“I think I can feel him,” said Apollo. The sensation in the depths of his being was faint. It was like a compass needle as small as a fingernail and as thin as a hair. It was difficult to see. It was even more difficult to interpret properly.

Still, if Apollo concentrated enough, he could tell where it pointed.

As they walked in the direction that Apollo claimed he was being drawn, Zephyrus looked around. There were few people out and about so early in the morning in such a small village, but he had to wonder what the mortals saw when they looked upon Apollo’s full naked glory.

Zephyrus knew that _he_ saw something he liked, and not just because of the effects of Eros’ arrow, but because Apollo was a rather beautiful example of masculinity.

The few mortals that the god and the half-god did bump into said nothing. Zephyrus decided that the mortals saw Apollo clothed.

As Zephyrus and Apollo approached the site of Hyacinthus’ death, Apollo’s godly half began to grow brighter and brighter. Zephyrus frowned. He had been lagging behind Apollo, willing to give the half-god his space. He picked up his strides and tapped Apollo on the shoulder.

Apollo jumped, visibly startled by the touch. Apollo looked at Zephyrus, frowned, then realized he was glowing. The light shedding from half of Apollo’s body winked out.

They walked for a few more minutes until finally, Apollo stopped Zephyrus in front of a rather unremarkable patch of flowers. They were beautiful in the same way that Hyacinthus had been in life. Not particularly the best-looking, but still lush and full of vibrance.

It was only then that Zephyrus realized that Apollo _had_ made Hyacinthus the most special of the flowers that were born from his death, but not in the way that he had originally thought.

Apollo knelt in front of the patch of flowers. He jumped again when Zephyrus placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in solidarity. It was rather difficult, for both of them, to see the place where there prince now lay in respite.

Much to the surprise of Zephyrus, a man appeared in front of them. However, to say that the boy was a man would have been to do a rather great disservice to his youth. It wasn’t until Apollo saw the trickle of water falling out from a watering can onto the flowers that he noticed the intruder.

Apollo jumped to his feet. He glared at the man for a heartbeat, only to gasp and take a step back in the next. “No,” said Apollo, breathless as Zephyrus and every bit as shocked. He was finding it difficult to believe the apparition that was before him.

“No,” said Apollo, voice faint and a little bit scared. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.” Zephyrus’ hands slid underneath Apollo’s armpits the moment that he felt his knees buckle. He tried to stand on his own again, but found that he couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t let him.

“Maybe not,” said the apparition, in the ancient tongue of the land. Apollo narrowed his eyes at the ghost and saw that indeed, it was Hyacinthus. It was their prince without a doubt.

Apollo found it strange that Hyacinthus was not dressed in the fashion of Ancient Greece, like most spirits from the time. It was only then that he realized that this was not the spirit of Hyacinthus.

The once-prince of Sparta was wearing jeans and a thin, sheer, somewhat too-large cotton shirt. For a moment, he seemed almost solid to Apollo, but both he and Zephyrus knew that this Hyacinthus wasn’t.

Every time that Hyacinthus moved, mist rolled from his body. When Hyacinthus swept his arm across to water the rest of the flowers, there was as trail of mist that lingered where it had moved.

There was a spectral watering can in Hyacinthus’ hands. The water that splashed on the flowers was no more than an illusion. “You are less in control of your powers than you think, Apollo,” said Hyacinthus with a smirk. Oh how Apollo had missed that smirk. “Your presence is giving my consciousness enough strength to become manifest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I know the chapter is slightly early... However, please do bear with me, because I am not sure if I will have the laptop tomorrow since I'm taking it in for repair. My power-jack is busted.
> 
> Aaaanyway. Now that that's out of the way. What do you think of the chapter? I hope you enjoyed it... As much as you could enjoy Nico being practically torn down again. xD. At least Will is now there to help him rebuild, right?
> 
> And here we go. :3. The plot is thickening quite a bit. >:]. What do you think of the Apollo/Zephyrus scene? In the next chapter you're going to see my headcanon Hyacinthus, who is a sarcastic, confident motherfucker that is endearing at the same time and has a perfect memory when it comes to embarrassing things that Apollo and Zephyrus did while they were courting him. XD.
> 
> In any case, leave comments if you want to make this author happy for Valentines' Day! If you haven't already, leave a kudos if you like the story. Otherwise, feel free to send me asks at my tumblr at [Malkuthe Highwind!](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	21. Freedom at Last

Will had been waiting with bated breath. He was looking intently at Nico. He was making a conscious effort to not squeeze the son of Hades’ shoulder too hard. He was so focused on watching his boyfriend that he very nearly jumped out of his own chair when he saw crimson eyes looking right at him out of the corner of his vision.

Will looked briefly at Eros. He was surprised, and a little disappointed, that the god of Love had wakened from whatever shared slumber Eros had had with Nico. Then again, Will should not have been surprised. Nico was, after all, still just a mortal, even if he had been able to fight Poseidon nearly blow-for-blow earlier.

“Is he…” Will’s words came out as little more than a croak. “Is he going to be alright?” he said. His voice was a whisper. He was uncertain. He turned his eyes back to Nico before Eros could respond.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Eros’ thoughtful expression. He did not find much comfort in  the fact that Eros had to think about the question for a moment. Truth be told, Eros did not know how best to tell Will what needed to be said without divulging what he had no right to.

“Alright…” said Eros, rolling the word around on his tongue as though uncertain about what to do with it. Will forced himself to look only at Nico. He didn’t want to antagonize the god. “It depends,” said Eros, finally, after a tense silence.

Will frowned. He looked at Eros, eyes flashing, before he forced himself to look back at Nico, brows furrowing in concern. He had been about to say a few choice words. “My son,” said Eros, a shame in his voice that Will had not expected, “He did many things to Nico.”

Will’s fingers tightened around Nico’s shoulder. He winced. He had not meant to do it. He did not want to hurt Nico. “Least among them,” said Eros, crimson eyes fixed on Will, “were the many compulsions on his consciousness.”

Compulsions? Will looked at Eros briefly, no more anger in his eyes, only fear and concern. “Compulsions?” Eros blinked at Will. He wondered if the son of Apollo knew what it meant. “Like charmspeak?” said the healer.

Eros nodded. “Like charmspeak,” said the god of Love, “only more subtle, and immensely more powerful on the right person.” Truth be told, Eros still couldn’t quite believe that a son of his would abuse the sacred power of love itself in such a grotesque manner.

Eros looked sadly at Nico, seeing in front of him the boy at Nico di Angelo’s core, scared and almost-broken by so many years of suffering and hardship. He also saw a surprisingly resilient heart. He had no doubt that Nico di Angelo would bounce back from having his world shattered so badly. He had no doubt that Nico di Angelo would be stronger than ever.

Eros turned to Will, crimson eyes fixed on the golden-haired demigod. “As for whether he’ll be whole after this,” said Eros, voice not much louder than Will’s had been, “After discovering that his relationship with my son Wyn was just an illusion, is another matter entirely.”

The gravity, the grimness of Eros’ voice did not make Will’s thundering heartbeat settle in the least.

For the second time since Eros visited, Will almost fell off the couch. Nico snarled, albeit rather softly, at him. “Don’t touch me,” said the son of Hades. The words dripped with such venom that they came out practically like a hiss.

Will was taken by surprise. He looked at Nico with concern, but the son of Hades refused to look him in the eye. He had been about to take his hand off of Nico’s shoulder when Nico brushed it off, almost aggressively.

The look that Nico shot Eros afterwards was baleful. Even so, Eros could tell that there was a gratefulness that dwelt behind the disdain. After a few moments of silence, Nico turned to Will, having calmed down a little more, and looked apologetically at his boyfriend.

Will extended his hand. He was looking for _some_ approval from Nico to give him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. Instead, Nico shook his head fervently from side to side, as though the thought of being touched was the most repulsive thing he could think of at the moment.

Will frowned. Concern was what furrowed his brows. “I need a shower,” said Nico.

The words took Will by surprise. He looked down for a moment, following Eros’ gaze. Nico was scratching at his skin. It was almost as though there was a layer of invisible much and grime that he couldn’t get rid of.

“I need a shower,” Nico repeated, eyes fixed blankly on a point in the distance. His entire body felt numb. His mind felt raw. Like it had been scrubbed viciously to clean it. The rest of his body, though, especially his mouth, felt like it was thick with mud and dirt. He felt used. He felt violated. He felt dirty.

Eros’ expression was sad. He looked like he wanted to stop Nico from getting up. He wanted to tell Nico that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to help, but he knew that he had already done what he could.

The god of Love looked at Will. The son of Apollo looked determined to stop Nico. Eros’ eyes told him not to. Will hesitantly sat back down on the couch, his entire body tense, especially at the shoulders.

Will did not stop Nico when the son of Hades staggered to his feet and shambled away to the shower.

Will looked from the son of Hades to Eros. He could only hope that Nico would find everything needed to take a shower. Although, Will supposed, given that the entire place was fully furnished, it would only make sense for toiletries and towels to be within reach.

There was a sinking feeling in Will’s stomach. It only intensified as he watched Nico. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Eros the question of whether the son of Hades had been violated.

Will stared after Nico’s retreating back. He watched. He waited for _any_ indication that Nico might need help, until, a short while later, he couldn’t see Nico anymore. The son of Hades had already left the room.

Will turned to Eros. He didn’t dare ask the question that was on his mind. Still, from the look on Eros’ face, he could tell that he didn’t _need_ to ask the question.

Things weren’t looking very good. So much for a couple of weeks or a month or two of happiness. Will looked in the direction that Nico had gone. His ears strained after Nico. He made a promise to himself that he would do his best to help Nico be happy.

“It will take him some time,” said Eros, startling Will. The god’s voice had been soft and almost-tender. There was a sadness about Eros that was entirely unexpected, for Will. “A lot happened,” said Eros, “There was a lot that was hidden from him.”

Eros looked in the direction that Nico had gone. “He didn’t just realize that the relationship he thought was happy was anything _but_ , he also realized that certain… _things_ … were done to him,” said Eros.

There was a grimace on the god of Love’s face. Will did not like the look of it. Not one bit. He turned where he sat on the sofa and looked at Eros. His eyes flashed. His voice was demanding. “What happened?” he asked. His voice was deeper than normal. More grim. More earnest.

Eros looked at Will. Crimson eyes seemed to bore into Will’s very soul. He couldn’t help but shiver, uncomfortable under the discerning gaze. They sat there for a moment. Eros staring, motionless, at Will, and Will squirming where he sat from the intensity of Eros’ look.

“You love him so much,” said Eros with a sad smile. How so many same-sex romances were tragic in this day and age was beyond him. He’d failed in his duty to protect so many of them. “It’s unfortunate you don’t love yourself more.”

Will frowned. He didn’t like the fact that Eros seemed to be changing the subject. “As for what happened,” said Eros with a plea for reasonability in his voice, “It is not my place to tell.”

Will opened his mouth to protest only to promptly close it. He knew he should have been angry. He knew that he should have said something. He knew that he should have demanded to know _something_ as was his right as Nico’s boyfriend, but somehow, he understood. He recognized the wisdom of Eros’ words.

Eros was right, after all. It was not his place to tell Will what Nico had experienced at the hands of Wyn.

Will didn’t think he would appreciate it very much if Eros had told Nico about the times that he’d drowned himself in alcohol and made his arms bleed over and over until the numbness set in. He would not have appreciated it if the only reason he’d had sex with Jason was to forget, for a brief period of time, the pain of Nico’s disappearance.

Will looked pensively at Eros. The last thing he wanted was to violate Nico’s privacy. At the same time, however, Will did not want to be left entirely in the dark about what had befallen his boyfriend while he was away.

The sound of a door being swung open distracted the two men. Then the door squealed shut moments later. The two, god and demigod waited in silence. Their breaths were bated. It wasn’t until they heard the hiss of the shower-head being turned on that they exhaled in relief.

Will turned back to Eros. He asked the only question he could think of that would not violate Nico’s privacy. “Was it bad?” he asked, hoping that Eros would at least let him know _that_.

Eros looked away. It was almost as though he was ashamed to even talk about it. “Yes,” he said, finally, after a long while. The only sound that had been audible the whole time was the relentless stream of water that poured as Nico showered. “Yes, it was bad,” he said.

Will had feared as much. He looked down at his hands. He wondered what good his gift of healing could do for Nico when the wounds that he bore were so evidently not physical. He scowled at his hands. He didn’t want to see them. They only reminded him of how useless he was in this situation. He sat on them in disdain.

Eros turned back to Will. There was a soft, amused smile playing on the god’s lips. He found it rather entertaining to see the healer sitting on both his own hands. “It will be bad for a _very_ long time,” said Eros. Amusement turned to sadness.

“ _If_ ,” said Eros, emphasizing the word, “If there was no one to help him deal with things, that is.” Eros gestured at Will’s hands and gently pulled them out from under the healer’s bottom. Gently, almost tenderly, he stroked his fingers along the backs of those unnaturally warm hands. “Your talent for healing doesn’t stop at the wounds of the flesh, William Solace,” said Eros.

Will felt a shiver run up his spine. No one used his full name. For a god to address him as such was rather new to him. He felt almost as though the name itself had power over him.

“Sure,” said Eros, his voice sympathetic, “You can’t just use your light to wipe away this pain of his.” Eros looked at Will with an unreadable expression. “But you can help him,” said the winged god of Love, “You should know this.”

Will looked at Eros. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he settled on just saying something that he knew to be true. “Even if I couldn’t,” he said, unable to keep the burning determination from his voice, “I would still try. As much as I possibly can.”

Eros smiled. Then he laughed. The sound was beautiful. Eros’ laugh was musical. It was lilting. It was sharp. It cut through the grimness of the situation, and through the tension between him and Will like a hot knife through butter. “And you keep saying that you’re _just_ a healer, Will Solace,” said Eros with a smirk, “Stay true to what you know.”

“You two do much good for each other.”

\----------

The loud thud that Festus made when he landed was unholy. It made a couple of the Hunters jump. They hunted large creatures, but a Celestial Bronze dragon was something else. Festus shuffled from side to side on the rocky outcrop where the pyre had been built.

Thalia and the Hunters had been expecting to carry the body of their newest deceased to the site where they had thought it would be most appropriate to put her to rest. Thankfully, Calypso had come to the rescue. Well, it had originally been Leo, but the Hunters refused his help. Mostly.

Leo was still a ways away. He was struggling to make it up the outcrop. When the Hunters had refused his help, they’d only done so partly. They had, after all, commandeered Festus and Calypso.

Calypso descended from Festus’ back, landing with softly on the ground. Gently, she slipped the girl’s lifeless body from the dragon’s back.

Thalia took the girl tenderly in her arms. This Hunter had been her responsibility. All the Hunters were her responsibility as lieutenant. So many had died in the last few years that Thalia couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed somewhat in her duty.

A Hunter came up to Thalia. Her eyes begged the daughter of Zeus to give _her_ the privilege of carrying the deceased one to her final resting place.

Thalia didn’t know what to do. She looked at the Hunter, but the look of sadness and determination in the Hunter’s eyes tugged at her heart.

Thalia had always known that spending so much time together, the Hunters were bound to eventually pair off. The girls would eventually end up in relationships with each other. Until that day, Thalia had not really realized just what that meant.

Reluctantly, Thalia released the limp body of the girl into the other Hunter’s arms. She had been weeping inconsolably before, but she wasn’t, anymore. There was a sadness in her eyes, but behind that sadness was a burning anger.

Something told Thalia that if only the other Hunter knew who or what was to blame for this girl’s death, she would do something stupid.

 Thalia took one step forward as the Hunter started walking to the pyre. Thalia grabbed the Hunter’s arm before she could walk too far away. Her eyes said everything that she needed to say. She pleaded with the other Hunter to do nothing reckless.

The look that Thalia got back was baleful. It was then that Thalia realized that there would be no promises made then. Without Artemis’ guidance, the Hunters were lost. Some of them were just grasping on some semblance of purpose. This particular Hunter had latched on to vengeance for the death of her beloved.

Reluctantly, Thalia let go of the Hunter. The Hunter did not look back at Thalia. Instead, she set her sights on the pyre, and on the pyre alone. The Hunter felt a profound pain in her chest as she walked, slowly, to the pile of wood.

It still had not dawned on the Hunter that the girl was dead. The pain of that loss had been sharp before, but it still hadn’t come crashing down on her. With every step she took to the pyre, her heart grew heavier and heavier in her chest.

Carefully, the Hunter laid the slain onto the pile of wood. She still wasn’t crying.

Thalia was afraid of the fact that the Hunter was showing very little emotion. It spoke of fury, of burning determination, of consuming desire for vengeance. It was a feeling that Thalia knew it was all too easy to succumb to.

The Hunter watched numbly as two others drew the sheer silver cloth of the improvised shroud that had been put together for the girl. It was difficult to accept. Her heart was like lead in her chest. Her blood was like fire in her veins.

Thalia turned in the direction that Leo had been earlier. The son of Hephaestus was _just_ making his way over to the gathered Hunters. Many of them shuffled away from him, but Thalia stood her ground. She looked back to the pyre as Leo walked up to her side.

To Leo’s credit, he didn’t crack a remark about how they’d forced him to climb. He was exhausted. He was completely out of breath. Festus was _his_ dragon and they had no right to commandeer Festus, but he knew well enough that the occasion was a somber one.

Thalia raised her eyes from the pyre to the moon. It was already low on the horizon. She wished, silently, that they didn’t have to burn the body, but without Artemis there to directly turn the girl into a fixture among the heavens, they had to do so.

There had already been far too many Hunters put to rest through fire. Thalia shook her head sadly. She knew that Artemis was watching, somehow, from somewhere, because the dead always made it to the heavens. They always became a permanent fixture, a single twinkling point of starlight in the lofty firmament above.

“ _Forgive me, Lady Artemis,_ ” said Thalia. She had spoken those words time and again over the last three years. There had been many Hunters that died. Monsters and allies of Gaea alike. The war might have been over, but there were still many battles to fight. Many enemies of the gods that needed to be put down.

There was still a blood price to pay, and the Hunters were some of those on the forefront of the remaining skirmishes.

Thalia had beaten herself up about it many times. She had thought that because the war with Gaea was over, there would be nothing else to worry about. She had thought that finally, there would be peace.

The fact was, that when she had been _only_ a demigod, the life that she, and others like her, led had been dangerous. Becoming a hunter had not made it any less true.

In fact, Thalia mused, perhaps being a Hunter had only made the danger that she faced _more_ true. She looked sorrowfully at the moon. “ _I should have done something more. I should_ _’ve protected her…_ ” She was trying to find _some_ guidance from the Lady Artemis. “ _We shouldn_ _’t have to do this… I’m afraid that because I wasn’t able to protect her—_ ”

Thalia looked at the Hunter that was standing numbly by the pyre. “ _—we might lose another one of us_.”

Thalia’s eyes searched the heavens in earnest, and, she knew, in vain. She was looking for _any_ sign that Artemis was watching over them. If there was one, Thalia didn’t see it. “ _We are afraid, Lady Artemis. We need your guidance_ ,” she said, in silence.

Thalia looked at Leo and nodded.

Leo nodded back. His expression was serious. He stretched out his arm. A spout of flame arced from his open palm to the pyre.

The Hunters around the pyre jumped back in alarm as the fire splashed around as though it were a liquid. The wood caught fire. The shroud followed suit. Within moments, the entire pile of wood, and the body laid to rest atop it, were consumed by a raging inferno.

As sparks and embers from the blaze spiralled skyward, Thalia couldn’t help but think that it almost seemed as though the fire itself was trying to become one of the many stars in the heavens. She almost couldn’t bear to watch as the one Hunter standing far too close to the fire slumped more and more as the fire raged on.

Thalia almost couldn’t bear to watch the funeral itself, but knew that she had to. It was her duty as Lieutenant of the Hunters to make sure that the girls got their deserved rest.

That fact did not make witnessing the funeral any easier. In fact, the burden of her responsibility seemed to make it all the heavier. All of them stood there, silent and motionless as the fire burned brightly and intensely.

Before long, the blaze died down. There was nothing left of the girl that had been, but the ashes of her pyre. The Hunter that Thalia had assumed wsa her lover finally broke, the realization that the girl was gone finally crashing fully onto her shoulders.

Thalia was neither fast enough, nor aware enough of what had happened to catch the Hunter as she sank to her knees. Thankfully, the others were. They rushed to the Hunter’s side. They supported her as she wept, openly and without shame, for the life that had been lost that night.

Thalia turned her eyes to the sky and watched as the last few embers of the fire that had raged minutes ago rose to the heavens. These ones were finally able to reach the skies. They were able to do what the sparks from earlier had been unable to.

These glowing embers became a star. A single, permanent, twinkling reminder, at least for those with the fortune to have the Sight, of a Hunter that had died in the line of duty.

Silently, Thalia thanked Artemis for still keeping watch over them, though she couldn’t help but wish again that the goddess was present to give her and the other girls much-needed guidance.

For three years, at least, the Hunters had been united in one goal: finding the goddess. That was the goal that had led them to Siberia. That was the goal that had led them to Apollo. Unfortunately, it seemed, they were no closer now than they had been when they’d started.

If anything, the Hunters were even farther away from their patron. Artemis was trapped, riding both the Chariots of Moon and Sun. Thalia could only hope that the goddess was alright. She looked at the moon as it finally dipped below the horizon.

The morning had come. Behind Thalia, the first rays of sunlight were already filtering through the horizon. Bars of grayish light streaked the sky, signalling the break of dawn. She turned to Leo, who was surprisingly silent, and said, “We’ll meet you back at Theopolis.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. The Hunters were about as far from the city as a person could get. Without a dragon like Festus to take them back, or any transportation like it, Leo doubted that the Hunters would be able to make it back to the city in any reasonable amount of time.

There was a smirk on Thalia’s face. “What?” she said, though her voice was still muted and somber. “We Hunters have our own ways of getting around,” she said.

Leo shrugged and clambered onto Festus’ back. He looked down at the Hunters and waved goodbye. They glared balefully at him as he pulled Calypso up onto Festus. With a mighty roar and a rush of wind that scattered the ashes of the pyre, Festus launched himself off of the rocky outcrop and into the still-dark sky.

\----------

There were a couple of choice things that Zeus always liked to tell Apollo whenever he messed up. Some godly dignity bullshit. He couldn’t be bothered to remember the particulars. He’d always just zoned out during one of his father’s infamous lectures.

Nevertheless, Apollo felt some measure of that divine dignity slipping away when he opened his mouth to speak. The voice was small and scared when it came out.

Apollo had expected his words to be more confident. He’d expected them to carry that same confident bluster that he so easily assumed most days, despite personal issues to the contrary.

The god looked at Hyacinthus and decided, in retrospect, that it had been rather stupid to think that. This day was not like most, after all. It wasn’t every day that a long-dead lover of yours whom you’d trapped in the form of a flower manifested a consciousness because of your presence.

“You’re not a spirit?” Apollo squeaked.

Hyacinthus laughed. The sound was musical. It tugged at both Zephyrus’ and Apollo’s heartstrings. They had both missed that laugh for so long. It made the dull ache in their chests so much easier to bear.

The once-prince of Sparta looked at Zephyrus with a smirk. “I thought he was faster than this, Zeph,” said Hyacinthus. For someone that had been stuck in the form of a flower for the past thousands of years, Zephyrus wasn’t sure of what to think about the all-too-modern sensibilities of Hyacinthus. He raised his eyebrow at the prince.

Hyacinthus shrugged. “I may have picked up a few things from the few folks that come by every now and then,” he said.

Apollo shook his head in disbelief. In truth, he could scarcely even believe that he was talking to the manifestation of Hyacinthus’ consciousness. This whole time he’d thought that Hyacinthus had only been made manifest as a result of his presence. He’d not thought that Hyacinthus was conscious the whole time. “You were aware of the world for the past thousands of years?”

Hyacinthus shrugged nonchalantly. It was no big deal. To him.

Apollo visibly blanched. He had thought that the flowers were merely new life drawn forth from Hyacinthus’ remains. He’d thought that Hyacinthus’ spirit was merely bound because he’d refused to hand the boy over to Hades.

Now that he knew that he had inadvertently trapped Hyacinthus’ consciousness in a literally vegetative state, Apollo felt even worse.

For someone that had been as athletic and free as Hyacinthus to be trapped motionless save for at the mercy of the whim of the wind… Apollo couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Hyacinthus looked at the once-god of the Sun. There was a strange mixture of sympathy, amusement, affection, and, oddly enough, forgiveness in his eyes. There was a sparkle of mischief in them, too. “Don’t feel so bad, sunshine,” said Hyacinthus in that endearing, yet simultaneously infuriating, sarcastic manner of his. “It’s not so bad being a flower.”

Hyacinthus laughed again. Zephyrus’ heart skipped a beat. Apollo’s thundered in his chest. “Come on,” said the prince, his voice so happy that it would be virtually impossible to tell that he had been trapped in the form of a flower for thousands of years. “Let’s not waste the time I get to have legs!”

Hyacinthus chuckled at the dumbfounded expressions on the faces of Apollo and Zephyrus. He reached across the distance and pulled at Apollo’s hand. He also dragged Zephyrus along.

Neither god nor half-god had the presence of mind to stop Hyacinthus. They were too stunned. They looked at each other in surprise as they were dragged away from the patch of flowers that had housed Hyacinthus’ consciousness for so long.

Their little trip took a rather long while. The sun was already almost risen by the time that they made it to their destination. Hyacinthus had been intent on traipsing across the countryside and feeling the blades of grass between the bare toes of his projected consciousness’ body.

The experience was liberating for the prince-turned-flower. While he knew that it would come to an end eventually, he wanted to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful for Apollo and Zephyrus for making it possible for him to walk among the living once more, if only for a precious little while.

Apollo appreciated the fact that Hyacinthus was taking his time, as well. It gave him some time mostly alone to his thoughts, though he nodded politely and smiled at Hyacinthus when the prince made some passing comments.

It was refreshing, for the once-god of the Sun, to see his prince being as carefree now as he was when he’d been alive. He’d expected to face a vindictive Hyacinthus, blaming him for all the suffering over the past thousands of years, but instead the boy before him was as rambunctious and filled with life as he had been so long ago.

Apollo looked at Zephyrus and saw that the West Wind was deep in thought as well.

Apollo and Zephyrus were shaken from their ruminations when Hyacinthus started to blurt things out. They had not realized that they were straying into the actual town of Amyklae.

The prince began to spout things about their past. The memories rose, one after the other at first, and then all at once, from the corner in both immortals’ minds that housed their time with Hyacinthus. They couldn’t help but both smile as Hyacinthus described the one time that Apollo had tripped over a rock and fell on his face in the middle of a now-nondescript field that used to have the most lush grass in Amyklae.

Hyacinthus spoke of the time that Zephyrus had slammed into a tree, face-first, while trying to catch a discus over what was now a stretch of asphalt road. The time that Hyacinthus had accidentally farted while laughing at Apollo.

Both immortals felt as though they were being dragged back through time. The world around them seemed to shift, in their minds’ eyes. Grass became greener. More lush. The sky became clearer. Wispy streams of clouds came into being. Streaks of golden sunlight raced across the heavens, illuminating the bright, brilliant blue. A breeze, cool and fresh, swept across their faces.

Apollo realized that they were seeing Amyklae as it had been before. He wondered whether this was the doing of Hyacinthus’ projected consciousness, or a way for himself and Zephyrus to cope with what was going on.

All the while, Hyacinthus was rattling off memory after happy memory. Not one of the prince’s recollections was bad in the traditional sense. They hurt, in the way that something nostalgic did, but no more than that. These memories were pleasant.

The memories made Apollo feel warm and tingly on the inside. He felt like a teenager falling in love for the first time all over again. He looked at Zephyrus and found that the feeling did not go away. He wondered if maybe he should give Zephyrus an actual chance.

Apollo looked around, and he could almost see his younger self, as carefree as Hyacinthus, dashing around buildings, chasing the once-prince of Sparta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said there was going to be angst, I meant that there was going to be _angst_. EVERYONE is dealing with feels right now.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I certainly did enjoy writing it. :3. How do you like what we see of Hyacinthus and Zephyrus and Apollo so far? I think they're going to be my feel-good trio for the next little while. You guys deserve some happiness after all I've put you through, after all. *winkwinknudgenudge*
> 
> In more somber news, how did you like the scene with Leo, Thalia, Calypso, Festus, and the Hunters? Did you like it? Could I have done it better?
> 
> What about the scene involving Will, Nico and Eros? What do you think of the fact that Nico's touch-aversion has kinda come back after all this time? Do you think Will will give in to despair? <3\. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please, leave me a comment!
> 
> In other news, I'm sad to say, but the updates will not be guaranteed for the next couple of weeks. My laptop, currently, isn't doing particularly well, and I have to wait 2/3 weeks for it to get properly fixed. I've also pretty much burned through whatever backlog of writing I had done for At the Break of Dawn, so I'll have to rebuild that when I have the time. Nevertheless, I shall try my best, and I hope I don't disappoint you guys. <3.
> 
> I love you all, and your continued patronage and kind words drive me to continue this series. You guys are awesome. <3.


	22. Here for You

Apollo blinked at the sound of laughter from Hyacinthus. The prince was enjoying the dazed looks on both Apollo’s and Zephyrus’ faces.

Apollo’s vision cleared. Old Amyklae evaporated from before his eyes, replaced by the still-green countryside of the modern day, and the ruined remains of the town.

Hyacinthus was sitting on a rock. From the looks of it, Apollo guessed that the rock had once been a column. Now it was weathered and worn, and had very little of its original height. The years, and the elements, had not been particularly kind to this ruin.

Hyacinthus was swinging his legs off of the edge, his feet just about a foot off the ground. The prince looked only too pleased with himself. He was rather happy that he had legs to swing now. He felt fantastic. Of course, he felt somewhat detached from the real world, being merely a projection, but it was still better than spending day after endless day as a flower at the mercy of the wind.

“Well,” said Hyacinthus with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow. Apollo and Zephyrus looked at each other. They were not entirely certain how to react.

Hyacinthus noted, with great delight, that Apollo and Zephyrus were both in bodies of young men around his own age. “Why don’t you two _boys—_ ” said Hyacinthus. His words were taunting. Calling gods boys wasn’t always the wisest thing to do, but Hyacinthus was certain that neither Apollo nor Zephyrus would do anything to hurt him knowingly. “—show me just how much you’ve missed me?”

Apollo couldn’t help but turn scarlet in the face. His mind immediately went to thoughts of the things that he did to Hyacinthus in the past. More than that, his thoughts turned to the things that he let Hyacinthus do to his body.

Apollo looked at Hyacinthus, the flush on his face deepening as his manhood began to react. The smirk on the prince’s face became a shit-eating grin. Zephyrus followed Hyacinthus’ gaze to Apollo’s groin and felt a stirring in his own loins as he watched the rising column of flesh.

Hyacinthus did not take his eyes off of the stiffening manhood between Apollo’s legs. “I can tell you’re happy to see me,” said Hyacinthus. He pointed at Apollo’s shaft, jutting out from the half-god’s groin, “but that wasn’t actually what I had in mind.”

Hyacinthus flashed a smile at Apollo. The grin was toothy. It was radiant. It was almost deceivingly innocent, but Apollo wasn’t buying it. He glanced, briefly, at Zephyrus, and found an amused expression on the god’s face. Zephyrus seemed to know that the innocence was all just an act.

Hyacinthus pointed his index finger at Apollo and hooked it toward himself in a ‘come hither’ motion. Using his other hand, Hyacinthus did the same for Zephyrus.

As though they were compelled by some strange eldritch magic, both Apollo and Zephyrus complied with the silent command.

The two were drawn to Hyacinthus like moths to a lamp. It was a strange feeling for the two. It was strange because it was almost like they were under a spell. It was disconcerting, but the fact that it was Hyacinthus made things easier. That, and the way they reacted wasn’t entirely unexpected.

So many years of longing for the once-prince of Sparta had rendered both Apollo and Zephyrus slaves to their desire and love for him. Apollo was breathing heavily. Zephyrus was walking, trying his best to adjust himself inconspicuously under his robes. Both immortals looked flustered to no end.

When Zephyrus was close enough, Hyacinthus threw an arm around his shoulders. Hyacinthus’ hand brushed the soft down on the top ridge of Zephyrus’ wings. He shivered. Tingling bolts of pleasure raced down his wings, down his spine, and into his cock that strained in its cloth prison.

Zephyrus was barely able to contain the moan that threatened to spill from his lips. He was grateful and happy that Hyacinthus’ consciousness had made itself manifest, but at the same time, he had not expected that Hyacinthus would feel so… _real_. So _warm_.

Apollo had lagged behind. He was a few feet away, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “What do you want me to do?” he asked. He was uncertain. He was feeling, strangely, shy. He had absolutely no idea how to approach Hyacinthus now.

Hyacinthus remained silent. He repeated the gesture with his finger. Apollo watched the finger curl enticingly, but it took Hyacinthus capturing Zephyrus’ lips in his own for Apollo to start walking. He was mesmerized as he saw Zephyrus melt into Hyacinthus’ arms. He looked at the prince, and was surprised to see that Hyacinthus’ intense eyes were still looking straight at him.

Reluctantly, Apollo walked toward the prince. The way he did made it seem as though his cock was guiding him forward. Hyacinthus found it rather amusing. The prince tapped Apollo’s turgid manhood. Apollo shivered, then grunted in surprise when he felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders.

Hyacinthus pulled the once-god of the Sun in for a passionate kiss. Their lips found each other, crashing together in a shower of sparks and bolts of pleasure that coursed through Apollo’s veins. It felt, to him, as though a part of him had been returned.

For once, Apollo was the passive partner. It was Hyacinthus’ tongue that stroked the top of his lower lip, that pressed insistently into his tongue, asking for permission to be let in. It was Hyacinthus’ tongue that traced Apollo’s teeth and danced with his own.

Apollo shivered. The feeling of Hyacinthus’ lips on his own after such a long time was amazing. It was almost as though there were fireworks going off in the back of his head.

Zephyrus frowned as he watched the steamy scene in front of him. He was slightly jealous. However, unlike so many years ago, he was no longer sure whether he was jealous of Apollo for kissing Hyacinthus, or if the other way around was the case.

Regardless, Zephyrus was indignant. He even pouted when he heard Apollo moan into Hyacinthus’ lips. Hyacinthus’ free hand, the one not stroking the back of Zephyrus’ wing, found its way to Apollo’s cheek, and wiped away the tears that were falling there.

Zephyrus decided that he had had enough. He was not about to be bested, though again, he was not sure whether he did not want to be bested by Hyacinthus or Apollo. The love he’d developed for both was confusing him.

Zephyrus shook his head. There was no time to think of such things at the moment. He needed to focus. As much as he tried to concentrate, Hyacinthus’ stroking of his wing was far too distracting, and the scent of the prince was far too intoxicating.

Somehow, Zephyrus found himself shoving his arms up the shirt that Hyacinthus was wearing. Hyacinthus wriggled, ticklish because of Zephyrus’ light and gentle touch. The lightness and gentleness vanished soon after as the West Wind tore the shirt right off of Hyacinthus’ body, exposing the prince’s chiselled musculature.

Zephyrus rained kisses on the flesh around Hyacinthus’ belly button. He moved up, his lips peppering Hyacinthus’ skin with feather-light kisses, making the prince squirm with pleasure. He moved up, his tongue flicking every now and then across the grooves of Hyacinthus’ abdomen.

Zephyrus was not done, even as he heard Apollo moan when Hyacinthus dug his fingers into the cleft of the half-god’s ass. He moved further up Hyacinthus’ body, not once stopping with his ministrations. He found a nipple. He nipped at it lightly. Playfully. Hyacinthus arched off of the remains of the pillar. He swirled his tongue around the nipple twice before he continued his journey north.

Zephyrus’ mouth found the skin stretched taut above Hyacinthus’ collarbone. He knew that it was one of the prince’s most sensitive areas. He nipped at the teeth, smirking at the gasp that came. Then he started suckling there, his hands stroking Hyacinthus’ sides lightly as he did.

Hyacinthus could no longer bear kissing Apollo under Zephyrus’ maddening ministrations. He pulled away from the half-god. His eyes were clouded with want. They were half-lidded with need.

As one, Hyacinthus and Apollo looked at Zephyrus, still busy making pleasure surge through Hyacinthus’ veins. It was at that same moment that they decided, both prince and half-god, that the West Wind was very much welcome as a part of their relationship.

Apollo turned to Hyacinthus. His own face reflected the lust that was aflame in Hyacinthus’. His mouth was slightly ajar. He was panting. It was as though Hyacinthus had managed to suck the very breath out of his lungs. “I’ve missed you,” said Apollo, his voice hoarse with want.

Hyacinthus looked at Apollo. The once-prince of Sparta tilted his head, then started to laugh. He looked down at Zephyrus and stroked the god’s hair. “I haven’t missed either of you,” he said, the smirk plain on his voice.

The comment triggered something in both Apollo and Zephyrus. Their eyes cleared, the haze of lust lifting for a moment as they looked at Hyacinthus. Both of them cocked their eyebrows in eerily similar fashion. They said, simultaneously, “Oh, really?”

Inwardly, Hyacinthus was more giddy than he had been in literally millennia. Alive, he’d liked getting his lovers riled up. They always seemed to perform better when he’d slighted their pride. Hyacinthus would have been lying if he said that he did not _love_ it when they were riled up.

Over the years, Hyacinthus had come to realize that perhaps picking one over the other had been the wrong decision. He had, after all, loved Zephyrus as well. He loved the West Wind as much as he did Apollo, but in a slightly different way. He had come to regret the fact that he let the custom of the time, taking no more than one lover, govern his choice. That same choice had killed him, after all.

Now, Hyacinthus thought, at least he had a chance to set an old wrong right. What better way than to have sex with both immortals?

Regardless of what he knew about both Zephyrus and Apollo during the brief time that he had been with them during his life, very little prepared Hyacinthus for what came next. Within heartbeats, god and half god were on him. He was divested of his pants, and left lying naked on the ruins of the pillar he’d been sitting on.

Zephyrus’ sheer robes evaporated from his person. Their absence revealed a sculpted body that, while it looked rather fragile, had a grace about it that made the muscles ripple with every motion.

As Hyacinthus tried his best not to drool—Apollo was doing the same—he had to wonder, for a moment, what the scene would look like to any passers-by. The once-prince of Sparta decided that if anyone _did_ catch the three of them in intimacy, that he would not mind one bit at all.

Hyacinthus didn’t think his already-hard member could get any harder, but it did at the mere thought of being caught having sex in public. He had never fancied himself an exhibitionist, but he supposed that was part of what had sometimes possessed him to have his way with Apollo in places he knew Zephyrus would be watching.

Hyacinthus was shaken from his thoughts with a gasp as a hand wrapped around his member. The grip was firm, and feeling his malehood being squeezed sent ecstasy roaring through his veins.

Hyacinthus didn’t know if the hand was Zephyrus’. He didn’t know if it was Apollo’s. Hyacinthus was so caught up in the sensations that came with having a body, projected though as it was, that he didn’t even know if it was his _own_ hand that was wrapped around his throbbing manhood.

Needless to say, Hyacinthus found out soon enough. Apollo said, “Are you sure you _don’t_ miss us?” The word ‘don’t’ was punctuated with a particularly vicious squeeze on the hard shaft. Hyacinthus noted, however, much to his own delight, that it seemed that whatever grudge had been between Apollo and Hyacinthus before was mostly gone.

“Nope,” said Hyacinthus. He sucked in a breath as his manhood was squeezed a third time. “Not—” Hyacinthus let out a little squeal, unable to keep it in, as he saw Apollo’s head duck, and he felt a warm breath waft over the head of his cock. “Not at all,” he managed, finally, after a handful more moans, groans, and whimpers from Apollo’s attention on his cock.

It was Zephyrus that spoke next. His wings rustled as he knelt between Hyacinthus’ legs, stroking the prince’s thighs as he went down. “You might not miss us,” he said, pushing his nose right into the space between Hyacinthus’ hole and his nuts. The West Wind took a deep breath of Hyacinthus’ young musk and sighed in satisfaction.

Zephyrus rolled the twin globes of Hyacinthus’ jewels over his nose. “But it definitely looks like you’re happy to see us,” said the god, opening his mouth and taking one of Hyacinthus’ nuts into his mouth.

The sensation was maddening. Hyacinthus had not known that his balls could be so sensitive. Feeling them roll around in Zephyrus’ warm, wet mouth made him nod his head vehemently. That he was happy to see Zephyrus and Apollo was a fact that he would not deny, no matter the cost.

“Oh,” said Hyacinthus. He let out a groan as he felt Apollo’s mouth envelop the head of his cock. “Oh, most definitely, Zephyrus,” Hyacinthus cried out as Apollo swirled his tongue around the swollen head of the member between his lips.

Hyacinthus prayed to the gods for the pleasure to never stop. Then, he was given pause for a moment. He had to wonder if either Zephyrus or Apollo had heard his prayer. From the way that Apollo kept licking his cockhead, and Zephyrus took to suckling his other nut, he had no idea.

“Don’t stop, Apollo,” begged Hyacinthus. If Zephyrus wasn’t busy suckling on both of Hyacinthus’ nuts, one after the other, he would have smirked. Apollo would have done the same, but he had taken to sliding his mouth, and throat, up and down the prince’s hard shaft.

Hyacinthus squirmed on top of the ruins of the pillar. He had no idea which building it had been a part of in the old days, but he was too far gone down the road of lust to care. It was perhaps not the most comfortable place to be buck-naked while getting sucked-off, but after millennia of a literally vegetative state, he had no qualms about it.

After a few minutes of his member being licked and sucked, and his nuts being suckled and fondled, the fog cleared somewhat from Hyacinthus’ mind. He reached toward his groin with both hands and pulled Apollo’s head off of his member, but not without great effort.

Apollo frowned at Hyacinthus, licking his lips where clear beads of salty-sweet pre-cum had gathered. He wanted more of it. He had not realized how much he missed the unique taste of his prince until he had lapped it up again.

“What say you, Apollo?” said the once-prince of Sparta to the golden-haired half-god. He smirked. The expression sent tingles down Apollo’s spine. “Let’s do it like old times?” said Hyacinthus, grabbing his cock and waving it in front of Apollo’s face.

It took a moment. Apollo was somewhat reluctant to appear so eager for it in front of Zephyrus, but Hyacinthus’ member was far too enticing. It had been far too long. He wanted Hyacinthus. He vehemently nodded his head. No, he _needed_ Hyacinthus.

The same was true for the prince. Only, Hyacinthus wanted _both_ Apollo and Zephyrus. Hyacinthus couldn’t help but grin as Apollo wrapped his arms around the prince’s body and pulled him off of the pillar.

Zephyrus was not too happy to be disturbed from his worship of Hyacinthus’ nuts, but he quickly realized what was about to happen. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat giddy as Apollo lay Hyacinthus down on the soft grass.

Zephyrus looked at Hyacinthus. The once-prince of Sparta winked at the West Wind, then grinned in anticipation as Apollo clambered atop him. The half-god’s puckered hole was pulsing. Apollo itched to be filled. He hovered over Hyacinthus’ member, waiting for the word to plunge his entrance down on his lover’s engorged cock.

Hyacinthus looked at Apollo’s flushed face and the strands of fine-spun gold plastered to his brow with sweat. Hyacinthus couldn’t help but think of how beautiful Apollo was, and how great it was to finally be free again.

\----------

It was an hour. An agonizing hour of waiting. Will was incessantly shaking his right leg up and down. The entire couch was vibrating with his anxiety. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, and he wasn’t entirely sure he did. It was the only thing keeping him sane. The wait was distressing.

The sound of the shower was still going. The spray of water was still running. Nico was still in there, doing gods know what. Will wanted to do nothing more than to barge into the bathroom to make sure that Nico was okay, but he was sure that Nico would not appreciate it at all.

Will strained his ears, trying to listen for any sound from Nico. Anything at all. The smallest peep. There wasn’t anything. Only the continuous flow of water. For a moment, Will allowed himself the leisure of wondering if there was still hot water running through the pipes, or if Nico was standing numbly under a relentless spray of cold water from the shower-head.

Will had long realized that he needed to give himself time to think about other things because he was beginning to get obsessively worried about Nico. He was beginning to blame himself for this whole kerfuffle. He was tracing lines along his arm, but he was too occupied with Nico that he didn’t care if Eros saw it.

The son of Apollo looked at his hands. His thumb on his left was tracing what would have been the scars that spelt out Nico’s name if he hadn’t, in his cowardice, healed himself line after painful line. His right was trembling against his thigh. He had not been this nervous since earlier in the day, when Nico had returned out of the blue, and he forced himself to confess his feelings.

Will shook his head. There was no question. The last three years had turned him into a nervous wreck. He knew that it was mostly his fault. He had blamed himself for nearly everything bad that had happened when it came to Nico. This was no exception.

Out of the corner of Will’s eye, he could see that Eros looked every bit as uncomfortable as he did. The god was fidgeting on his seat. There was a tension in Eros’ shoulders that Will had not noticed before. The god’s crimson eyes were riveted in the direction of the shower, but every so often, they darted in Will’s direction, with a strange mixture of concern and apprehension in them.

Will did not know what to think of Eros’ sympathy. The fact that there was a nervous god sitting in Nico’s living room with him did little to settle his racing mind.

Will shook his head. He tried to tell himself that he was just overreacting, but even to him, the words sounded flat and unconvincing. Will drew a deep breath. The inhalation rattled, unexpectedly. Will turned his eyes back in the direction that Nico had vanished. He forced his left hand to stop its reminiscence of his self-destructive times, and instead he twiddled his thumbs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Eros shuffling in his seat every few seconds. Feathered wings rustled as they were jostled, or as they were stretched every so often. Eros’ expression tightened, and his hands began to squeeze the armrests of the chair even harder.

Eros looked as though he was the epitome of discomfort. Finally, after a few more minutes of trying to endure, the god no longer could. He rose from the seat and said, without turning his eyes away from the direction that Nico had gone, “I’ll take my leave now.”

Will did not acknowledge Eros’ words. “I am no longer welcome,” said the god. Will wanted to say something to the effect of ‘ _No shit, sherlock,_ ’ but he knew that antagonizing the god was probably not the wisest thing to do.

Eros could feel the growing animosity from Nico. The very air was prickling with hostile energy. He could barely abide standing in the middle of Nico’s living room when the air itself seemed to be stabbing discomfort into his skin.

Eros was aware that Nico appreciated his presence, but he had not been aware that Nico was capable of radiating such displeasure. Eros knew that he needed to leave before it got any more difficult. He knew that Nico was grateful, but at the same time, he could _feel_ that Nico did not want to see him, not for a long while.

Eros could not bring himself to blame the son of Hades. He could not begrudge the boy of his hostility. He knew well enough that he probably reminded Nico of his son, and that perhaps distance was the best choice for the both of them.

Still, there was a part of Eros that wanted to stay. A part that wanted to make sure that Nico was alright. A part that wanted to ask Nico what else he knew of Wyn, the son that Eros had thought long-dead.

Fortunately for the boy, Eros was a god of Love, and he knew that the last thing Nico needed was for more memories of Wyn to be dredged up. He didn’t want to make Nico feel even more disgusted with himself than he already was. Eros knew that this was not the time to pursue his own ends.

Will turned away from Eros. He ignored the god. His mind was too consumed with worry for Nico to be distracted by Eros’ departure. He did not want to waste the time being angry with the god for not staying around to make sure that Nico did not need any further help.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will watched as Eros wordlessly vanished into thin air. The whole of him was relieved that the god was gone and that he was now alone, but yet another part was nervous. If anything happened to Nico, if the son of Hades needed any more help, he would have to deal with it without any back-up, at least not for the moment.

Will was trembling out of apprehension when ten minutes later he rose from his seat on the couch. He was done waiting. He knew that he was bound to do something self-destructive if he didn’t do anything productive.

Will made his way to the bathroom. He wanted nothing more than to check in on Nico. He _had_ to. Both his inner boyfriend, and his inner healer demanded it of him. He could no longer just sit around waiting. He needed to let Nico know that there was someone willing to help. Someone that loved him.

Yet, when he got there, Will found himself consumed by his anxiety. He wondered if Nico would reject him outright. He wondered if Nico would not want anything to do with him. He wondered if Nico would retreat so far into a shell that no one could ever coax him out again.

Will paced in front of the door to the bathroom for two or three minutes. He was no longer so sure of himself.

Eventually, Will shook his head and told himself that if he didn’t want Nico to seal himself off from everyone else, that he had to make sure that Nico knew that there were people that cared for him. He summed up the knowledge to knock on the door. There was no response, probably because his ‘knock’ was no more than rubbing his knuckles against the wood of the door.

Will took a deep breath. He had to be confident. If he wasn’t sure of himself, how was he going to reassure Nico of anything? He had once been aggressive and firm when it came to Nico’s wellbeing. He could do it again. Will forced his trembling body to still as he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the door.

What followed was the sudden sound of fumbling from beyond the door. Will heard a loud crash from within. His heart jumped in his chest. Its beating thundered in his ears. Had he caused an accident? “Nico?” he called out, hoping against hope that he had not, in his desire to help, accidentally made things worse. “Are you alright?” he said, trembling all over again, “What’s going on in there?”

For a few moments, only the sound of scuffling and scrambling from within could be heard, and even that, only barely above the sound of the shower. Will considered leaving Nico to whatever it was that he was doing to ease whatever pain he was going through, but Will could not find the heart to abandon his boyfriend in this time of need.

It took a while, but Nico finally answered. His voice was shaky. Will did not think it bode well. “Nothing,” said Nico. Will frowned at the terse response, but was powerless to do anything about it. “Go away, Will.”

Will did not think that three words would have as much power to hurt him as those particular three did. His heart felt as though it was being cleft in twain. “Nico,” he said, surprised at the pleading in his voice.

If Nico insisted, Will knew that he would go. He respected Nico’s choices. At the same time, however, he wanted Nico to _not_ insist. “I’m your boyfriend…” he said. There was a long, drawn-out sigh from inside the bathroom. Will was tempted to just stop, but again, he made himself press on. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

Nico breathed out in resignation. “I know,” he said, just barely audible over the sound of the water running. Will had to chase away the thought of Nico standing naked under the shower, the water trickling down the curves of his body, inky hair plastered to his face with water. “I know,” said Nico, “but I don’t want to talk.”

“Why not?” said Will. He didn’t want to press too much, but at the same time, he didn’t want to press too little. Both because he would never forgive himself for failing to convince Nico to talk about his pain, and because he would never forgive himself if Nico thought he was being abandoned.

Will stood in front of the door, feet planted firmly on the ground. He would not leave without letting Nico know that he wanted nothing more than to help. He would not leave without letting Nico know that he wasn’t being abandoned. “I know you need your space,” he said, when no response seemed to be forthcoming, “but could you at least let me share some of your burden?”

A bitter, artificial laugh filtered through the sound of the shower running, and the wooden door. Will listened closely for anything else, but for a while, the only thing he heard other than the water was the sound of furious scrubbing. “Sure,” said Nico, after a few more moments of nothing. “I dropped the soap,” he said, “That’s what happened.”

Will was caught so off-guard by the dry remark that the immature part of him almost made him snicker. On the other hand, the horny young-adult part of him made him force away the image of Nico bent over, trying to retrieve a bar of soap. “Nico,” he said, exasperated, “You know that’s not what I mean.”

For a full minute, there was silence from inside the shower. “I know,” said Nico, finally, “I don’t want to talk about it.” The sound of furious scrubbing continued again. “Go away, Will,” he said.

Nico leaned his entire body against one of the walls of the shower. The marble was cold to the touch, but he couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck. It was difficult for him to tell Will to go away when all he wanted was Will’s comforting presence, when all he wanted was a warm hug from his own personal ray of sunshine.

At the same time, there was a large part of Nico that did not want Will to see him like this, feeling dirty and completely violated. Nico’s dark eyes wandered down, over his own body. His skin was raw and red. The loofah in his right hand, which he had been using to scrub himself down, was itself crimson in places.

Nico no longer cared if he bled. The pain was inconsequential to the possible relief of getting rid of that layer of invisible grime that had stuck itself to the surface of his skin.

As much as Nico tried to rub the dirt off, he _couldn’t_. The bar of soap he had started out with was now about a quarter of its size. The rest of it had been lathered away, spent more on the vain attempt to cleans his body of the dirt put on it by his violation than the dust and mud of his military campaign.

“Nico,” said Will. There was something in Will’s voice that Nico just couldn’t put a finger on. He leaned his head against the wall, letting the cool water run down his face in rivulets. Thankfully, he mused, it hid his tears from himself. He did not need to feel more pathetic than he already did.

“I just…” Nico could almost see Will’s face fall as he spoke. He could see the confusion and hurt on his boyfriend’s face. It hurt him, _too_. It _physically_ hurt to turn away his boyfriend, but he knew that it was for the best.

Nico did not want Will to worry needlessly, at least not more than he probably already was. Nico heard a thump against the door. He was certain that it was Will’s forehead, because Will’s voice came more muffled after that. “I just want to help,” said the son of Apollo.

Nico’s expression softened. It turned from anguish to sympathy, even though he knew that Will would not see it. “I know,” he said, the words echoing in the emptiness of the bathroom. “I know you do.”

Nico could almost see it. At that moment. Will looked up with hopeful eyes. It only made him feel worse to crush that sparkle of hope. “I want to be alone,” he said.

“Nico—” Will didn’t know what to do. He raised his hand to the smooth wood of the shower door. There were so many things that he wanted to say, but from the conviction of Nico’s words, he felt that he needed to respect what Nico wanted.

“Alright,” said Will, after a long silence. There was resignation in his voice. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Nico found himself both grateful and scared of the prospect of actually being left alone. He no longer knew what to do with himself. What to think of himself. “But,” said Will, pressing on with that characteristic determination of his, “If you need _anything_ , I’m just next door, okay?”

Nico flinched where he stood when he saw the doorknob jiggle. “I…” Will trailed off, as though at a loss. “I just want you to know you can tell me anything, alright?” A small smile tugged at the corners of Nico’s lips. “I want you to know that I’m here for you.” There was a tingling warmth in Nico’s chest. It helped a lot.

“Yeah,” said Nico, weakly, as he turned his eyes away from the door to the bloodstained loofah in his hands. “Yeah, I know that,” he said. The smile on his face had grown, despite the fact that Will was not there to see his gratefulness. “Thank you, Will,” he said.

Nico looked up when he heard a faint thump on the door to the bathroom. Will had placed his hand up against the door. “I love you, Nico,” he whispered.

Despite the roar of the relentless stream of the water, Nico somehow heard those four words. They brought tears to his eyes. Did he, really? Nico raised his own hand to the glass of the shower enclosure, never once taking his eyes off of the door. “I love you too, Will,” he said.

Nico lifted his hand from the glass and watched as the wet outline of his hand dripped away into nothing. “I think I do, at least.” His voice was no longer loud enough for Will to hear.

Will hung his head and walked away, determined to do _anything_ he could for his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, the chapter is very late today. I didn't have my laptop until about two hours ago. xD. I'm having rather massive technical difficulties.
> 
> As a result, this week's chapter is not very well-edited. Consequentially, I'd like to put out the call for beta-readers. I need you. My previous beta-reader has vanished on me, so if you're interested, send me an e-mail at malkuthehighwind@gmail.com. <3.
> 
> Anyway, I'd like to hear what you think about this chapter. It would be great. The scene between Zephyrus, Apollo, and Hyacinthus. How did you like it? As for Nico and Will, what did you think of their interaction?


	23. Bound by the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLD UP! READ THIS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!
> 
> Smut warning for this chapter. There's quite a bit of sex going on here. You may want to just skip it if you're a minor. :3.
> 
> If you're legal, well, you might like some Apollo/Zephyrus/Hyacinthus DP action. >:].

When they had begun, Apollo had had reservations about having sex in the open. It wasn’t so much that he was being demure, but rather, the fact that for centuries, he’d been hoping that if he ever had sex with Hyacinthus again, that it would be in a far more romantic setting than this.

Apollo looked down at his lover splayed underneath him. He watched the corners of Hyacinthus’ lips twitch as his blue eyes raked over them. Apollo’s breath hitched in his throat. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as Hyacinthus. Apollo came to an epiphany. As he watched the flush on Hyacinthus’ cheeks, he realized that no matter where he was intimate with the once-prince of Sparta, it would be as special as if it was done in the most luxurious bed and romantic palace.

All Apollo needed, after all, was Hyacinthus being there.

Apollo whined. He was beginning to get impatient, yet, some part of him exercised some restraint. He knew better than to goad Hyacinthus. Gods, he was tempted to. He wanted to goad Hyacinthus into flipping him over and fucking him in a way that he had never experienced since he lost his prince. Still, Apollo wanted their first time after so long to be special.

A smirk curled the corners of Hyacinthus’ lips. The prince was amused by Apollo’s struggle to remain balanced, puckered entrance hovering over his member. He knew that Apollo was just waiting for his command, but a cruel streak that Hyacinthus had never quite been able to get rid of was rearing its head.

After so many years of being trapped in an immobile body, just lying there with his back against the soft, loamy earth and the tufts of grass, watching as Apollo struggled to restrain the want in his stomach, was satisfying enough for Hyacinthus. Besides, Hyacinthus was rather enjoying just lying there and tormenting Apollo with his closeness.

Putting Apollo out of his mind for a brief moment, Hyacinthus shot a meaningful glance at Zephyrus. The West Wind looked startled. Almost instantly, Hyacinthus heard the barely-audible whisper in the wind. Apollo showed no indication that he had heard it.

“ _What is it_?” whispered Zephyrus. The words seemed to caress the side of his cheek. They seemed to stroke his very mind in a way that the prince would have never thought possible.

All of a sudden, it simply became so erotic to Hyacinthus to be having a secret conversation with Zephyrus while he relentlessly teased Apollo’s hole with the head of his cock.

“ _I want to fuck him at the same time as you_ ,” thought Hyacinthus, willing the words to seep from his mind into the gentle breeze that blew from him and wafted up to Zephyrus’ ear.

The mere suggestion brought a flush of colour to Zephyrus’ cheeks. A scandalized look crossed his face. His eyes widened. He bit his lower lip to stifle a moan.

Zephyrus cast his eyes in Apollo’s direction. His eyes traced the curves and the lean musculature of the god. Even trapped in the form of a youth, Apollo had a beauty all his own. Zephyrus licked his lips. He suspected that two cocks fucking Apollo’s tight behind at the same time would not be such a great idea, but the hardness from between his legs that was demanding his attention thought differently.

Nevertheless, Zephyrus was legitimately concerned. After all, Zephyrus was privy to the knowledge that Apollo was no longer fully divine. He only had half of his godhood remaining. There was the very real risk of injury to his mortal half.

Needless to say, Zephyrus was rather apprehensive. His anxiety somewhat ebbed when Hyacinthus said, in a sultry voice audible even to Apollo, “Why don’t you prepare the filly for riding, Zephyrus?”

Zephyrus perked up. _That_ , he thought, was definitely a good idea. He was tempted, very much so, to say, “ _As my prince commands,_ ” but he was not sure whether Hyacinthus would appreciate such words. Apollo moaned in response to the words. From the sound of it, Zephyrus suspected that the meaning of them had not yet hit Apollo’s addled mind.

Nevertheless, no sooner had the sensual sound slipped from Apollo’s lips than another followed it when Zephyrus knelt behind him and pushed him over. Apollo found himself on hands and knees on top of Hyacinthus. His eyes widened as he realized that _he_ was the ‘filly’ that Hyacinthus had talked about.

“W-what do you m-m—” Apollo began the sentence with a stammer, but he ended it with a wanton moan. The protestation that had been in his mind died in his throat from the sudden heat that washed over his loins. Zephyrus’ finger was prodding at his entrance. Apollo grunted, cock harder than ever, as he braced himself with his hands to either side of Hyacinthus’ shoulders.

The half-god was about to lean down to meet Hyacinthus’ lips with a kiss, but Zephyrus interrupted him with a kiss of his own. Only, the West Wind’s kiss met Apollo’s most sensitive and private of parts.

Instinctively, Apollo bucked his hips back, pressing Zephyrus’ lips closer to his entrance. His head fell across Hyacinthus’ shoulder. His mouth was slightly agape from the pleasure. He panted, needily, in Hyacinthus’ ear. Apollo squirmed. He was aroused beyond belief. Judging from the hardness poking at his thigh, Apollo knew that his want was affecting Hyacinthus as well.

Apollo knew that he did not need to look over his shoulder to know that Zephyrus was probably as hard as him and his prince. The thought was chased away soon after. It was replaced by a sort of blank-minded blissfulness when Zephyrus swirled his tongue around Apollo’s puckered entrance.

Apollo moaned, again, the sound so incredibly arousing for Hyacinthus that the once-prince of Sparta squirmed underneath him. Fortunately for the prince, his mind was not as blanketed by the haze of want as Apollo’s.

Before Apollo’s lust-addled mind registered Hyacinthus’ movements underneath him as anything more than pleasured writhing, it registered the feeling of a hand wrapping firmly around his hard, weeping member. With a groan, Apollo pushed himself from Hyacinthus’ chest. He looked the prince in the eye and spotted exactly what he expected: a mischievous gleam.

Between Zephyrus’ tongue prodding insistently at his hole, and Hyacinthus’ hand, pulling gently at his cock, Apollo found no chance to think straight. He had been hoping to have some clever quip to throw at Hyacinthus, but he had been reduced to a blubbering, needy mess incapable of putting together anything comprehensible.

Apollo thrust his hips back. He cried out when he felt Zephyrus’ tongue stab at his entrance. Hyacinthus began to stroke his member faster. He was brought to orgasm by the combined sensations so quickly that he started to moan and buck like a bitch in heat.

The sounds of Apollo’s pleasure only made he smug smirk on Hyacinthus’ face grow wider. It also made the flush on his face grow even redder.

Hyacinthus himself was unable to resist a moan when Apollo latched on to his jaw and started suckling the skin there.

There was nothing more arousing at that moment, to the once-prince of Sparta, than seeing the once-god of Music so wanton in his need to get fucked. “Please,” begged Apollo, after a few more moments of the exquisite sensual torture. His voice was pitiful. It broke as Zephyrus’ tongue dragged over his twitching entrance. “Please fuck me!”

All pretence of bluster and confidence had evaporated from Apollo. He was giving in to his more base nature. The same nature that the mortals had. The very same nature that the gods often denied having. Apollo didn’t care anymore.

This coupling was with Hyacinthus, the prince that he had spent so many years pining for. This coupling was with Zephyrus, the god whom the myths had remembered as his enemy, when he was not. Apollo knew now, more than ever, that these two would never judge him for what he wanted.

Neither Hyacinthus nor Zephyrus would judge him for what he _needed_. That, more than anything, meant more to him than whatever praise or judgment his father could pass on him. Apollo’s voice turned hoarse as he screamed out Zephyrus’ name.

Zephyrus had pierced his almost-virginal tightness. The warm, wet tongue of the West Wind had found its way past his first ring. It squirmed, wriggled, and prodded at the second. Moments later, Apollo’s second sphincter gave way and he groaned as he felt Zephyrus’ tongue wriggle within him.

Ever since Hyacinthus had died, Apollo had resolved to never take anything there again. Not unless it was his prince somehow come to life. It was only now that Apollo realized what he had been missing.

Despite his many trysts with men over the years, this pleasure that he was feeling was beyond anything he had felt with them. He understood now why they often screamed out his name until their throats were raw. He understood now why, afterwards, they would look at him with puppy-dog eyes as though wishing he would never leave.

Apollo squirmed and bucked onto Zephyrus’ tongue. He could not do much about the maddening, torturous pleasure that kept him on the edge. He ground his hips against Zephyrus. He thrust his groin into Hyacinthus’ grip. Both men kept him, masterfully, on the precipice. He was so close to fruition, but he was not quite there.

Apollo moaned. The first true rays of morning light were beginning to streak across the sky. The half-god sang his praises for his two lovers well into the rising of the sun. His song was not filled with words. Instead, he sang in moans, and groans, and grunts, and sighs.

Apollo’s cock strained in Hyacinthus’ masterful hands, but try as he might, he could not push himself over the edge. He thrust and thrust, and Hyacinthus stroked and stroked, but whenever he felt his cock swell, just about ready to burst, the once-prince of Sparta stopped and Apollo was left panting and protesting.

Finally, Hyacinthus spoke. “I can’t wait anymore,” he said, having grown impatient over the last couple of minutes. Apollo was unable to do anything but moan in gratefulness.

Zephyrus, on the other hand, made a sound of disappointment. He had been thoroughly enjoying playing with Apollo’s hole. He had been enjoying making the half-god sing with his tongue. However, as soon as he set his sights on Hyacinthus’ swollen manhood, he found himself rather excited by the prospect of getting to fuck Apollo’s tight hole right alongside Hyacinthus.

Zephyrus sat back on his haunches, cock straining in the cool air of the early morning, as he watched Hyacinthus manoeuvre his member into position.

There was only one warning that Apollo got. It was the sudden glint in Hyacinthus’ eye. Zephyrus’ entire world shrank down to just the two men in front of him. The next thing Apollo knew, a rock-hard cock was being plunged into his more-than-willing entrance.

Apollo cried out, his already-hoarse voice becoming even more scratchy as Hyacinthus’ manhood grazed his prostate. It was the trigger that he had been waiting for for so long. The moment that his button was stimulated, Apollo’s cock began to pulse and spurt. His cum spilt from his cock with such force, Apollo could do nothing but tighten his entire body.

Strands of sticky white heat painted Hyacinthus’ chest white as Apollo came. Some of the spurts were so forceful that they landed on Hyacinthus’ face. The once-prince of Persia was all too glad to lick up his lover’s seed.

Apollo soon started to convulse in ecstasy on top of Hyacinthus. His hole pulsed and spasmed around Hyacinthus’ length, bringing the prince to the precipice of orgasm almost instantly.

Hyacinthus moved his hips. He thrust in and out. He stabbed at Apollo’s prostate as the half-god’s channel tried to milk him for all that he was worth. His repeated pummelling of Apollo’s button extended the half-god’s already-mind-blowing orgasm into something that rendered Apollo’s mind blank with pleasure.

Zephyrus himself was trying his best not to blow his own load just from sheer arousal at the sight in front of him. It was a difficult task, one that was quickly proving to be impossible as Hyacinthus and Apollo bucked against each other, trapped in sensual bliss.

Apollo panted. Hyacinthus moaned. Zephyrus bit his lip so that he would not cry out.

Hyacinthus slammed his cock into Apollo. The half-god was so tight that he could not help but draw his cock out and slam it back into Apollo harder. He did it again. Harder. Harder. Each time, the noises coming from Apollo grew higher and higher.

Hyacinthus found the warm, wet tightness of Apollo to be almost addictive in the pleasure that it gave him. He fought tooth and nail to make the moment last. He was on the edge, skirting dangerously close to release. However, after so many years of being a flower and having no release, Hyacinthus could no longer hold back.

With a guttural roar, Hyacinthus threw his head back. The roar was probably loud enough to rattle windows. It was probably loud enough to scare any large predators nearby. He slammed his cock into Apollo hard enough to make the half-god squeal in delight as his cum spilt forth and painted Apollo’s insides white.

Apollo’s strength left his arms. They wavered like jelly until finally, they gave way and he fell on top of Hyacinthus. Apollo panted. He was tired. He was exhausted from the quick but intense coupling. Yet, he felt more satisfied now than he had been in so long.

Apollo couldn’t help but moan when he felt Hyacinthus pepper his cheek and jaw with feather-light kisses. He couldn’t help but part his lips to allow Hyacinthus access when the prince pressed his own against Apollo’s.

Apollo groaned into Hyacinthus’ mouth as the prince’s tongue traced his teeth. Then, a minute later, when Apollo’s mind cleared enough from the haze of pleasure, he realized, with alarm, that Hyacinthus’ strong arms were wrapped around him and would not let him move.

Hyacinthus looked at Apollo. Their eyes met. Dark eyes and blue. Dark eyes were glimmering with mischief that somehow made Apollo uneasy. The half-god knew that despite his handicap, he was still indescribably strong. However, he also knew that he was exhausted and that his strength would do nothing to help him.

Apollo let go of Hyacinthus’ lips and allowed his head to fall beside Hyacinthus’. He panted against Hyacinthus’ cheek, but he could not gain enough purchase, with the strong hands that bound him to his lover’s chest, to look again into Hyacinthus’ eyes.

It took Apollo a moment, but he quickly realized two things: that Hyacinthus had not yet pulled out of him, and that said cock was _still_ hard as a rock.

“Now,” said Hyacinthus. The smirk was almost audible in his voice. Apollo struggled in vain. His eyes grew wide as he heard the rustle of feathers and grass and felt the weight of Zephyrus as the West Wind clambered into position behind him.

The arms around Apollo’s torso loosened enough to allow him to push himself up. Apollo took the chance to look over his shoulder at Zephyrus, who was smiling at him with barely-contained lust, and a genuine reassurance. “You’re mean,” he said, turning back to Hyacinthus and looking the prince meaningfully in the eye.

Hyacinthus merely smirked. The arms around Apollo tightened and he found himself pressed against Hyacinthus’ chest once again, only this time, his lips were caught in Hyacinthus’.

If Apollo was being entirely honest, he was without a doubt terrified. He had never taken two cocks at the same time before. The mere idea struck a chord of fear into his heart. Still, he had to admit that the idea intrigued him, and some part of him wanted to take on the challenge.

Needless to say, even if Apollo had not wanted to try, and he did, he would not have been able to struggle as much as he wanted because of the tight grip that Hyacinthus had on him.

It did not help Apollo when he felt the hardness prodding at his already-filled backside. “What are you—” he said, almost-impatiently. He was not given the chance to finish his question. Zephyrus had thrust into him.

Zephyrus had been careful to not go all the way, but he had at least gotten the most difficult part over with as fast as possible. Apollo’s eyes shot wide open at the burning pain of being stretched around _two_ decently-sized members.

The words themselves seemed to die in Apollo’s throat. His eyes widened even more when a little more of Zephyrus’ formidable length was pushed inside him. His jaw hung slack as his body tried to get used to the sensation of being filled so full. Of being invaded by something than he had ever experienced. Of being fucked open by two cocks at once.

“Oh gods!” moaned Hyacinthus. The words distracted Apollo from the burning agony in his entrance, that, thankfully, was already beginning to subside.

Hyacinthus could not have imagined the sensations that he felt at that moment. To feel his cock throbbing inside of Apollo, _alongside_ another cock was absolute bliss. “That feels so good,” groaned the once-prince of Sparta as Zephyrus smirked and slid his cock home.

Apollo was unable to help the moan that was torn from his lips. The pain of being stretched so wide, of almost being torn asunder, had completely evaporated, and he was left feeling only the exquisite pleasure of being filled to the brim.

Slowly, Apollo’s cock, that had gone soft, began to rise. It twitched. It stiffened. It spewed a glob of pre-cum onto Hyacinthus’ belly as he groaned when Zephyrus’ entire length was shoved into him.

This was one of those things that Apollo had never thought he would be able to enjoy. One of those things he never thought he would be able to say. Now, he mused, through the haze of lust, that he would no longer be able to say that he could not take two cocks at once.

Apollo no longer felt any burning. What he _did_ feel, however, was the pressure on his button. He squirmed, but Hyacinthus’ arms made sure that he could not move very much.

Apollo was, whether he liked it or not, trapped between Zephyrus and Hyacinthus. The once-prince of Sparta was firm and warm underneath him, while the West Wind’s entire weight pressed down on him from above. Apollo decided that he rather _liked_ it.

Apollo decided that he would not _mind_ spending an entire day like this, but at the same time, he wished that either one of his lovers would start _moving_. His cock was begging for it. His ass was begging for it. Behind the moans and incomprehensible grunts, _Apollo_ himself was begging for it.

Apollo wanted nothing more than to grab his own cock and stroke it, but Hyacinthus’ embrace was pinning his arms against his side. He couldn’t move them.

Apollo wriggled. He made his displeasure at being held immobile known. His motion made both Hyacinthus and Zephyrus groan for a moment before a smirk appeared on the prince’s face.

Annoyed, Apollo wiped the stupid smirk off of Hyacinthus’ face with an earnest kiss. Scarcely had Apollo tried to assert some small measure of dominance on his situation than Zephyrus reduced him once again to a needy mess.

Zephyrus ground his hips against Apollos’ ass. He pressed down on Hyacinthus’ cock inside the half-god, applying more pressure to Apollo’s sensitive button. Apollos’ hard cock drooled pre-cum onto Hyacinthus’ stomach in copious amounts.

Apollo tried to pull away to writhe against Zephyrus, but he found himself trapped. His lower lip was caught between Hyacinthus’ teeth. Apollo cracked open his eyes, and saw that Hyacinthus was smirking again at him.

Zephyrus pulled all but the head of his cock out of Apollo, then drove his entire length back into the spasming tightness. Apollo’s brilliant blue eyes fluttered open in shock. His mouth hung open in pleasure despite his lip being caught between Hyacinthus’ teeth.

Blue eyes met Hyacinthus’ dark ones. The once-prince of Sparta’s eyes were gleaming with mischief. Apollo tried his best to formulate a complaint, but the words, before they could even form properly, were driven out of his head when Hyacinthus pulled his cock out of Apollo and slid it back in.

Apollo’s eyes very nearly rolled up in his head when Hyacinthus and Zephyrus began to fuck him in tandem. The pleasure was maddening. Waves of sensuality washed over Apollo and crashed against his mind, dulling it even further.

Apollo was at the mercy of the tide of his lust. Zephyrus would pull out, but not fully. Then Hyacinthus would push in and Apollo would howl with pleasure. Then Hyacinthus would retreat as Zephyrus slammed his own cock home.

In and out. In and out. There was never a moment when Apollo was not filled. Not a moment when the relentless assault on his prostate let up. Not a moment when his cock managed to rest from its drooling.

Ecstasy coursed through Apollo’s veins unbridled. It raced across his skin like lightning. It spread across his insides like a wildfire that had spun out of control. It exploded in his mind. For a blissful moment, Apollo lost all thought of self.

For a single moment, Apollo found that he was not the once-god of the sun turned half-god by his vengeful father. He was not the one god with a desire he had to suppress because of his father’s judgement. For a single moment, Apollo was one with Zephyrus and Hyacinthus, and the pleasure that the three of them were currently sharing.

With a shuddering moan, Apollo’s entire form burst into a brilliant, brazen radiance that could rival the sun itself. His golden light washed over the nearby countryside. The greens of the grass became even more lush. The faded glory of the ruins, stripped away by the ages, was restored, if but for a moment.

Zephyrus blinked in the sudden brightness, but he did not stop his thrusting. Apollo began to glow even brighter. Hyacinthus noticed the same, but as well did not stop.

Relentlessly they assaulted Apollo with sensations he had never known before. Mischief gleaming in Hyacinthus’ still-young eyes, the once-prince of Sparta began to thrust faster and faster. He drew Zephyrus, unwittingly, into the increasing tempo of their lovemaking.

Faster and faster, Hyacinthus jackhammered his cock deep into Apollo. Zephyrus did the same, if only to keep up. Apollo’s cock pulsed and throbbed with every stroke against his prostate, drooling its salty-sweet pre-cum incessantly.

Pleasured grunts turned, rather quickly, as the pace picked up, into animalistic cries. Apollo bucked and moaned. Whatever little movement he could manage, he did. He squeezed with his abused entrance. Did his best to tighten himself even more for his lovers. His light spilt forth from his body, growing brighter and brighter as he approached his climax without even once touching his own cock.

Again and again, Apollo’s prostate was pummelled. Moment after moment, he leaked onto Hyacinthus’ stomach. Faster and faster the grunts and cries came. Louder. Louder with every passing moment.

To Apollo’s ears, as well as his lovers’, the sound of their coupling blended into beautiful music. The symphony rose and fell with increasing intensity until finally, with a deafening crescendo, they reached their peak. Apollo cried out. His cock spurted all the seed that it could while his lovers painted his insides white.

Spurt after spurt. It seemed almost endless, but it wasn’t. Eventually, the light that spilt from Apollo winked out, and he descended from the heights of orgasm. The golden light of the actual sun washed over the three lovers.

Hyacinthus’ lips found Apollo’s. They kissed eagerly and passionately. Zephyrus’ arms wound around Apollo’s middle, and the half-god wriggled into the embrace.

As one, the three of them sighed in contentment. They were happy. At least for the moment. They were happy to just be in each others’ presence.

\----------

Will Solace, despite his desire to respect what Nico di Angelo wanted, could not bring himself to, leave the other young man alone. It wasn’t that Nico’s apartment was not safe. Nico was sure that  It wasn’t that Will didn’t think Nico couldn’t take care of himself.

It was a simple fact that Will had not known, but had quickly discovered when he tried to leave. He was unable, _physically_ , to do so. He had tried. Time and again for the past hour, Will had attempted to wrench open the door that led to his side of the two-unit complex. He could not. Eventually, he gave the matter up entirely.

Will looked at the door in front of him and glared at it. Part of him wished that it would burst into flame just from the intensity of his gaze. Whether the fact that the door did not spontaneously combust was fortunate or not was debatable.

Will lifted his hand from the door-knob. The door-knob was the furthest that he had gotten. The polished golden-plated door-knob had, ashamed as he was to admit it, defeated him. Will could not even force himself to twist the damn thing.

Will sighed, defeated, and trudged back to the living room. He was sincerely at a loss. He looked down and found that he was standing in front of the coffee table. He blinked, then turned his eyes again in the direction of the bathroom. He could hear, just barely, that the shower was still on. The sound of the water spraying out of the shower-head was relentless still.

Unbidden, Will’s eyes wandered to the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. It looked so comfortable. So inviting. It called to him, and he found that the siren song was almost too difficult to resist.

Will clucked his tongue. He did not want to rest. Not until he knew that Nico was alright. As much as Will struggled, fatigue drew his bones inexorably closer to the sofa.

Will had to wonder what Nico would think if he discovered that Will had fallen asleep on his sofa. Will shook his head, and for a moment, the haze of weariness in his mind cleared. He blinked. The sofa suddenly did not look quite as appealing.

Will was sure that Nico would not appreciate seeing Will on the sofa after expressly telling him to leave. Will sighed. He would have to deal with that bridge when he came to it. Presently, it seemed as though he was stuck in Nico’s side of their twin apartments.

Will cast his eyes in Nico’s direction once again. He couldn’t help but wonder _when_ Nico would finish his shower. He couldn’t help but speculate _why_ Nico was taking so long.

Despite the fact that Will was in the prime of his youth. Despite the fact that his hormones still raged in his blood. Even though he had a mind that could dredge up the most perverted images that could make his cock jump to hardness within moments, the only thoughts that crossed his mind were terrifying ones.

Will staggered back from where he stood when the unwelcome image of Nico doing the same self-destructive thing that he had done emerged in his mind’s eye. He could not bear the thought of those thin gashes on Nico’s arms. In Will’s mind, he became one with Nico, and he could feel, again, the anguish and uselessness that had forced him into his self-harm to begin with.

Will tore his eyes away from Nico’s direction. He could no longer tolerate the vision. He could not stomach the thought of Nico sinking into the same dark place that he had.

A frown knotted Will’s brow. He wanted, more than anything, to knock on the shower door again. He wanted to try and talk to Nico. He wanted to offer his support. Unfortunately, however, he knew, fully, that Nico would not appreciate the gesture.

Will walked over to the sofa. He found himself wishing that Nico would not push him away again. He pondered the thought and realized that it might have been too much to ask. He amended his supplication. He wanted Nico to not push him away, at least not now, when it was so obvious that the son of Hades needed him.

The last thing that Will wanted was to be absent when his presence was vital. For all that Will knew, in the three years that Nico had gone, Nico had spent every moment needing someone to lean on, someone to be strong when he could no longer be, but had no one.

Will couldn’t help but feel guilty. The thought made bile rise in his throat. At least he’d had Jason.

Will sighed, eyes flitting once again in the direction of Nico. He could only do what Nico told him, though. He could only hope that leaving his boyfriend space, at least for now, would be okay. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t want to forcefully insert himself in Nico’s life. He knew that it would only cause friction between them, no matter how much he told himself that it was only for Nico’s own good.

Will stopped in front of the couch. Regardless of the worries in his mind for Nico, he found himself drawn to the couch like a moth to the warm light of a lamp.

The day had been a very long and very exhausting one. There had been enough excitement in the last couple of hours to tide him over for a week. Or more, if Nico was right about Nyx being unable to do anything for at least a couple of weeks.

The thought was stricken from Will’s mind by the creak of his limbs. Weariness dragged at his legs. His thighs felt like leaden bricks. He could barely remain standing. He could barely keep his eyes open. His eyelids were already drooping.

Will tried his best to persevere through the fatigue. He wanted to hold silent vigil until Nico finished his shower. Eventually, he had to recognize that he was fighting a losing battle.

Will’s eyes drifted shut and he swayed dangerously where he stood. He fell backward. He fully expected to wake up from this dream that Nico had returned, but instead, he heard a soft thud as his bottom and his back hit the soft, plush cushions of the sofa.

Will sank into the comforting warmth of the sofa. Before he could even think more about Nico, sleep caught up to him, and he drifted off into the land of dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! One chapter of pretty much 70% porn. How did you like it? I definitely enjoyed writing it. *waggles eyebrows* Godslash, as my dear friend Mab likes to call it, is rather _hot_. Especially if it involves Apollo. :3.
> 
> What do you think's going to happen to Hyacinthus now? Do you think Apollo can still complete what he visited Amyklae for? Do you think he can still let Hyacinthus go now that they've coupled, that they've been intimate like they haven't been for thousands of years? :P. Will Apollo be a stubborn bastard and try to bring Hyacinthus back to life, Hades be damned?
> 
> On the other hand, you gotta admire Will. He's trying not to show it, but he's _really_ fucking tired. He's barely keeping himself together, and yet, he still puts Nico before himself. Well, that and he probably thinks he deserves whatever it is he's getting, but that's a matter for another day. :3.
> 
> If you like the story so far, leave a kudos! If you want me to read your thoughts and respond like the sadistic angstmonster I am, then leave a comment! My tumblr is also rather lonely so send me asks(invasive questions accepted) at my tumblr at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)! :D


	24. Letting Go

It was no more than two hours when Will was shaken, rather unceremoniously, from sweet slumber. There had been a loud thud, and despite the sleepiness that stubbornly clung to his eyes, his more protective side was already alert. It took a few moments for the rest of him to catch up with the paranoid, protective side of his, but his eyes flew wide open in blind panic.

Will had realized, just then, that the sound could not have come from anywhere but the bathroom.

Will jumped to his feet and nearly took a spill over the coffee table, banging his knee against the dense wood of the damn thing. He bit back a string of choice curses. Most of those, he’d learned in the three years that Nico had been gone.

There was no holding back the tide of profanity that followed the Will’s unfortunate stubbing of his toe against one of the coffee table’s legs. He normally would have frowned upon the cussing, but he was in a lot of pain, and these days he only drew the line when cussing was unnecessary.

With an angry roar, Will flipped the coffee table on its side. He winced and grimaced, afterwards, when the wooden frame cracked, and the living room was filled with the sound of tinkling as the glass on the table’s surface shattered into tiny pieces.

The furniture was, however, just furniture. That was what Will told himself as he dashed into the relatively narrow corridor that led to the bedroom and the bathroom. Nico was infinitely more important than a stupid coffee table that was impeding his way to get to Nico. Not that he could do much about the limp that he now had to deal with.

Still, the panic in Will’s mind overruled the shooting pain in his leg, and he found himself in front of the bathroom sooner than he had expected. The first thing that Will realized when he reached the door of the bathroom was the fact that he could still hear the water running.

“Nico!” Will shouted, surprised at how hoarse his voice seemed to sound. Will banged on the door. “Nico!” he shouted again, his throat raw from his yelling. There was no response from within, only the sound of an incessant spray of water. “Fuck,” he said, under his breath.

Will looked around. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and his forefinger. He had no idea what to do. He would have to break down the door, but given the fact that it looked like it was made of rather dense wood, he didn’t think he could just kick the damn thing down.

Will never thought he would complain about structural integrity, but this was the one time that he wished that the builders of the city had decided to cut some corners, at least on doors.

Frantic, Will paced up and down the hall. He headed into the living room and looked at the tipped-over coffee table. He had been thinking about taking one of the legs and using that to beat the door into submission, but from what he could see, the coffee table was one solid piece of wood.

Will realized, soon after, that he could no sooner rip one of the legs off of the coffee table than break down the door with his foot.

Will made a sound of exasperation and was about to stalk back into the corridor when something shiny caught the corner of his eye. Slowly, and with an air of disbelief, Will walked over to the sofa. He saw, in the space between two of the cushions, the ivory rod that Nico had given him earlier.

For the first time since waking up to an unpleasant sound from the bathroom, a smile graced Will’s face. He snatched up the rod and walked back into the corridor, ready to face the door that stood between him and Nico.

Will looked at the rod. He could scarcely believe that he had forgotten all about it. He wondered when it would become a staff, and spent a full minute staring at it, expecting it to do something. It did nothing.

“Fuck!” said Will, feeling the brief hope in his body drain away. “Why don’t you become a fucking staff?” He said, yelling at the rod in his hands. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the rod began to glow with a golden light.

Will watched as the two ends extended into the Imperial Gold staff that he had wielded earlier. He felt the hope returning. Unsurprisingly, Will no longer had any idea how to use the damn thing. He tried. He tried his best, but what he ended up doing was knocking a hole into the marble wall behind him.

Will grimaced at all the damage that Nico’s apartment had already sustained, a few short hours into the son of Hades’ inhabitance of it. With a grumble, Will pulled the staff free from the hole he’d inadvertently made.

Will stood in front of the door and looked at the staff, swearing at it mentally to do _something_. The weapon blazed brighter with the same golden light that emanated from Will when he healed someone. He didn’t know what to do, so he did the logical thing; Will slammed the butt of the staff as hard as he could against the doorknob.

What happened to the polished golden door-knob, Will did not know. All he knew was that one moment, it was right there, and the next, it was gone. Will shook his head and pushed open the door.

Instead of swinging open, the heavy wooden door fell inward. The hinges had mysteriously disappeared just like the door-knob. Will shook his head. He hoped that Hades would cover the damages. He did not think that he had enough money to pay for them.

Will looked up from the door. The sight that greeted him made him drop the staff. One golden end hit the floor and rang like a struck bell before the other caught up with it and rang as well. By the time that the staff had settled on the floor, it was once again just a gold-and-ivory rod.

Nico was laying in the middle of the bath-tub. The shower was still running, but it did very little to wash away the blood of the wound on Nico’s head. Will winced when he saw that there was blood streaming from the son of Hades’ very raw skin as well.

Will gasped, having gathered his wits about him. He ran to Nico, tripping once over the edge of the door. He knelt by the bath-tub, about to heal Nico, when he realized that the spray of water was freezing cold.

Afraid that Nico would get hypothermia, or had already gotten it, Will grasped, blindly, for the shower control. He found it, after a few tense moments. The flow of water slowed to a dribble, then stopped entirely.

“Nico,” whispered the son of Apollo. His voice echoed in the emptiness of the bathroom now that the shower was off. The sound was eerie.

Will raised his hands in front of him, fingers splayed every which way. He willed his light to come to the surface, but it was more difficult than usual. He could feel hunger beginning to gnaw at his insides, but he persevered. The light streamed out of him, but it sputtered.

Will found that he couldn’t concentrate well enough. “Fuck,” Will growled at himself. He tried to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It helped. A little. His breathing only sped up the more he looked at Nico, despite his efforts to calm down.

Will’s heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t lose Nico. A tear rolled down the side of his face. He just _couldn’t._

Thankfully, the mere thought of losing Nico again made everything snap into perfect clarity for Will. He lay his hands on the wound on Nico’s head, and before he knew it, the wound was gone in a brilliant flash of golden light.

The hunger gnawed with more insistence at Will’s stomach, and he could feel the heat dwelling just underneath his skin. He didn’t care. He had to take care of Nico.

The healing had taken quite a lot out of Will. He didn’t think he could help if Nico actually had hypothermia. He could probably heal Nico’s skin, but it was the last thing he could do safely. Even that would have to be done with care. He didn’t want to blow himself up along with Nico.

Will took a deep breath and gathered his wits around him. He held his hands out in front of him, and felt the strength surge through his arms and into his open palms. The light, brilliant and healing, flashed for a moment, then blinked out almost instantly.

\----------

Apollo, Zephyrus, and Hyacinthus found themselves just lying there on the soft bed of grass for a long time. They were satisfied to just bask in the bliss of their… _togetherness_.

It had been such a long time since the three of them had been in one place together. At least, in one place together where there was no anger and grief. Where there was only happiness. Where everything felt _wonderful_ to them.

Zephyrus had long since rolled off of Apollo’s back. Truth be told, it was not very comfortable for him to be laying on top of the half-god. Apollo was of the same opinion. Zephyrus might have been light for someone of his size, but it was still not very pleasant being squished between two men for a protracted period of time.

Zephyrus looked at Hyacinthus and started to stroke the side of his prince’s face. His wing, the one not pinned underneath his body, was fanning a cool breeze across Apollo’s bare skin.

Zephyrus sighed when Apollo himself clambered off of Hyacinthus and wrapped his arms around the prince. Apollo nuzzled Hyacinthus’ shoulder and looked up at Hyacinthus, whose eyes were closed as he leaned into Zephyrus’ stroking.

“You know why we came?” asked Apollo. Hyacinthus’ eyes fluttered open and locked with Apollo. Apollo searched Hyacinthus’ eyes for something. Some dreg of resentment or anger. He could find nothing. Only earnest and sincere love.

The very idea that Hyacinthus seemed to have no ire for Apollo’s recklessness made Apollo’s heart flutter in his chest. Nevertheless, it only made the words feel like lead in his throat.

“It’s time, then?” said Hyacinthus. He tore his eyes away from Apollo’s, as hard a feat as that was, and looked to the sky instead. He sighed, after a moment, and looked at Zephyrus.

The West Wind’s grand feathery wings ruffled in the breeze. Hyacinthus looked in the god’s eyes. “Did you come to give me peace?” he said, to Zephyrus, with a smirk.

The way that the Hyacinthus spoke the words made Zephyrus raise an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what it meant. “Yes?” He said, made uncertain by Hyacinthus’ tone. It was almost as though the prince found it amusing that Zephyrus and Apollo thought that they had come to give him peace.

“Sure,” said Hyacinthus. He turned back to Apollo. His arms snaked around both Zephyrus’ and Apollo’s shoulders. He pulled them close. He squeezed their shoulders comfortingly. “Peace,” said Hyacinthus. Both god and half-god could tell that the prince was fighting back laughter.

It wasn’t long before Hyacinthus broke. Laughter spilled from his lips. The sound was musical, but Apollo and Zephyrus both found it puzzling. “I don’t need peace,” said Hyacinthus. “Do you really think that all these years as a flower was terrible?”

Apollo swallowed nervously. The thought made him sick. “Do you really think that for all those years, I felt like you abandoned me?” said Hyacinthus. “Sure it would have been great to be able to move around, but it wasn’t that bad.” Hyacinthus stroked Apollo’s shoulder. “You didn’t curse me to be this immobile… _thing_ that wasn’t even particularly beautiful.”

“Well…” Apollo’s mouth was dry. He didn’t know how to respond to Hyacinthus. He didn’t know why Hyacinthus didn’t think he’d been abandoned. Didn’t think that he’d been cursed to a life of immobility as a flower. That was exactly what had happened, as far as Apollo was concerned. “Isn’t that what you felt?” he asked.

Hyacinthus shook his head from side to side. He looked at Apollo and brushed his nose against the half-god’s. He laughed as though it was the most ridiculous thing that he had heard. “That’s definitely not what I felt,” he said.

Hyacinthus twisted where he lay on the ground and faced Zephyrus. There were words that he’d been meaning to say, but they died the moment that he saw the look of fear on Zephyrus’ face. Hyacinthus breathed deeply. He removed his arm from around Apollo’s shoulders and brushed a stray lock of Zephyrus’ hair from the god’s face.

“Don’t you think that I felt the warm breezes every time spring came?” asked Hyacinthus. Zephyrus’ eyes shot wide open. They glimmered with unshed tears. His heart started beating faster in his chest. “I danced to you,” said Hyacinthus, brushing his lips against the god’s, “my dear West Wind.”

Zephyrus felt as though he could soar despite being currently earthbound. He had not thought that Hyacinthus would even _realize_ how many times Zephyrus sought him out.

Hyacinthus turned to Apollo. He removed his arm from around Zephyrus’ shoulder and slid it up Apollo’s chest. The half-god’s lips parted in a soft moan. “Don’t you think,” said Hyacinthus, his fingers wandering up Apollo’s neck, “that I felt your radiance on my face whenever you shone so brightly as you always do above me?”

Apollo’s eyes filled with tears, much like Zephyrus’. “Sunshine,” said Hyacinthus, pressing his lips in earnest against Apollo’s, “I drank your warmth in happily.”

Hyacinthus looked once more at his two lovers before pushing himself into a sitting position. He supported himself on his two arms. The grass felt soft under his fingers. He raised his eyes to the sky that he had watched for too many years to count. He watched as the clouds slowly meandered through the heavens like massive wool-laden sheep.

“You might not ever have shown up like you did today,” said Hyacinthus, not once taking his eyes off of the cloud that looked suspiciously like a carrot. “I might not have had the privilege or pleasure of being in your arms again, but I was at peace.”

Hyacinthus looked down at his naked self, as though still in awe of the fact that he had a body now. “I was at peace because of the fact that some part of you, as small as it was, still looked after me.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “It’s more than I could have ever asked or hoped for in my life.”

Hyacinthus flinched, then tensed when he felt Apollo’s unexpected affection. The half-god wrapped his arms around the prince’s midriff. Apollo had wound himself tightly around Hyacinthus by the time that Zephyrus did the same. The West Wind’s feathery wings wrapped the three of them in that moment of tenderness, as though to protect them from the reality of the world that awaited them.

“But you’re right,” said Hyacinthus, after a long while. He’d lost track of how long had passed. Time was largely irrelevant to him, especially after so many years of being locked in a patch of flowers. “It is time.”

Hyacinthus seemed downright sad. His voice had broken, and a tear was rolling down the side of his face.

Apollo’s arms around Hyacinthus’ belly loosened, and he sat up beside his lover. He wiped the tear from Hyacinthus’ cheek. Hyacinthus’ sadness distressed Apollo. He did not want to see his prince in such a state, but the truth was that there was very little he could do about it. “It’s been a pleasure,” Hyacinthus said, “but we’ve cheated Hades and Thanatos long enough.”

Apollo threw his arms across Hyacinthus’ chest and pulled the other man close. “I don’t want you to go,” he said, arms winding tighter around the apparition. Apollo was, himself, beginning to cry. “I lost you once,” he said, “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You’re going to have to,” said Hyacinthus, turning to Apollo. He stroked the side of Apollo’s face, even as the half-god buried it in the crook of his neck. “We mortals aren’t meant to stay around,” he said. Apollo pulled him closer. “That’s what makes us mortal, after all. We’re destined to die, eventually.”

“Please don’t leave me alone,” begged Apollo. His voice was soft, but both Hyacinthus and Zephyrus could feel the despair coming through the words. Apollo had come to Amyklae ready to let Hyacinthus go but now that he held the boy in his arms again, he found the task to be almost impossible. He breathed in the scent of his beloved, knowing that it may very well be the last time that he got to do so.

Hyacinthus laughed, though he could not help the hint of bitterness that slipped into his otherwise sincere mirth. “You’re not going to be alone anymore,” said Hyacinthus, shooting a meaningful glance at Zephyrus that made the god’s heart flutter in his chest. Hyacinthus gently took one of Apollo’s hands and placed it in Zephyrus’. “I’ll always just be another mortal for you, Apollo,” said Hyacinthus, his voice becoming sad once more.

“No,” said Apollo. He looked up, eyes shining with protestation. He was about to say more, but Hyacinthus was already tapping his lips gently with a single finger.

“Yes,” said Hyacinthus. “I’m not one of you gods. I’m not immortal,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Maybe you _will_ always love me,” said Hyacinthus, daring to let hope come into his voice.

“Maybe if I choose to be reborn twice for the Isles of the Blest, we’ll find each other, but then what?” The question hung in the air for a good minute or two, unanswered. Apollo couldn’t bring himself to think of the answer.

Finally, it was Hyacinthus that broke the silence. He stroked the side of Apollo’s face and brushed a lock of hair away. “You’re a god, Apollo,” he said, “You have duties. I know you cannot follow me to the Isles.” Hyacinthus sighed. “You need someone that will be with you the way that I know I can’t.”

“No, I don’t,” insisted Apollo. The words sent a twinge of jealousy through Zephyrus. Again, however, the West Wind could not wholly determine whether he was jealous of Apollo ro Hyacinthus.

“I want you,” said Apollo.

Zephyrus echoed the words in his mind, though he said it to both Hyacinthus and Apollo.

“I _need_ you,” said. His voice burned with determination to _not_ let go of Hyacinthus. “I will give up _anything_ to be with you.”

“I know,” said Hyacinthus. His voice was heavy. His heart was heavier. He didn’t know how better to deal with the situation than to tell Apollo the truth as he knew it.

Hyacinthus knew that Apollo had come to Amyklae expecting that he would be the one comforting his lover, but Hyacinthus had always, _always_ turned the tables on Apollo. “I know, and I’m sorry, Apollo,” he said. “I know you _can’t_ give up anything.”

“Not every love story can have a happy ending.” The moment that the words slipped from Hyacinthus’ lips he felt Apollo tremble against his neck. He reached up and brushed Apollo’s hair. He threaded his fingers through Apollo’s locks of fine-spun gold, and couldn’t help but shed a tear again. This would be the last time he even had the opportunity to do so. “This is how it has to be,” said Hyacinthus, with finality and resignation in his voice.

“You know this was always how it would end,” said Hyacinthus, almost stern. Some of it, Hyacinthus understood, but he was a Spartan by blood. He could not abide the fact that Apollo was clinging to something that was clearly impossible.

“Apollo,” said Hyacinthus, his voice firm. “You have to stop denying that I’m just a mortal.”

Apollo shook his head, making Hyacinthus bristle with discontent. “No,” said Apollo, starting very much to sound, to Hyacinthus, like a child. “You’re my prince,” he insisted, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t want me to, Apollo,” said Hyacinthus, “But I have to. This is the way of the world. These are the laws of life and death.” Apollo opened his mouth to say something else, Hyacinthus shushed him. “You are a god, Apollo. All the more reason that you should not be playing with these laws.”

“I have to die,” said Hyacinthus, “If not today, then some day yet to come. You have to deal with that.”

\----------

Will was slumped against the bathtub. His light, and the healing that had come with it, had taken more out of him than he had expected.

Now, Will found himself laying by the side of the tub, motionless. Half of his body was slightly wet and draped over the edge. His hand was just barely grazing the naked skin of Nico’s thigh, but he was too busy battling exhaustion to be flustered by the fact.

Will was drifting in and out of consciousness. He was fighting tooth and nail so that he wouldn’t fall asleep. All he could do to keep himself awake was berate himself for his stupidity and recklessness. In his bid to save Nico from _everything_ , especially the otherwise superficial wounds on the son of Hades’ raw skin, Will had inadvertently made it more difficult for himself to save Nico from _anything_.

It took a minute for Will to recover. Still, the short length of time felt like an agonizing eternity. From what he could tell, and with how cold his hand felt against Nico’s naked thigh, he could only think that Nico was in danger of succumbing to hypothermia. Even if Nico wasn’t in particularly dangerous waters, Will had to hope that there would still be time to save his boyfriend.

Will could not bear the thought of losing Nico again for any length of time, much less, what would no doubt be eternity. The very idea shocked him into wakefulness.

Will wound his arms around Nico’s prone form. He was unable to help but shiver as a chill ran down his spine from how cold the air was around Nico, and how cold Nico’s _skin_ was. Will almost felt as though Nico was leaching warmth from his body. He would gladly have given it, but Nico didn’t seem to be improving at all.

Will grunted as he lifted Nico from the tub. He was surprised to be met with less resistance, less weight than he had expected. He had already forgotten, in his worry for Nico, that his boyfriend had not had the best time of the last three years and looked to be dreadfully undernourished. He’d forgotten that he’d already lifted the surprisingly-light Nico earlier on in the day.

Despite the fact that Nico was lighter in his arms than he expected, Will found himself struggling. He was, after all, still weak from having used too much of his light.

In that moment, Will could not help but remark to himself that Nico was right. He _was_ , indeed, a hypocrite.

One step was all that Will needed to fuck _everything_ up. He slipped on the wet tile floor. He pivoted around the heel of his left leg. He hissed in pain, but was thankful that his ankle was not injured significantly. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning of the misfortune. Soon after, Will lost his balance.

Normally, Will would have flailed his arms in a bid to get back to his feet, but with Nico in his arms, he could do no such thing. Will’s momentum carried him across the floor and slammed his back with great force against the nearest floor.

Will couldn’t help but wonder, if the wall had been drywall, if it would have buckled under the force of his collision, but the thought was chased away by the pain that suddenly surged through his body.  He cried out. His knees buckled and he slid down to the floor. Thankfully, part of his mind was putting Nico’s safety above all else, and he was able to save Nico from any further injury.

Truth be told, Will didn’t particularly care about his own suffering, as long as it didn’t affect anyone else. He believed, after all, that he deserved it for driving Nico away for three years, for depriving his boyfriend of all the love and friendship that he could have had at Camp Half-Blood during that time.

Will was going to take care of Nico, all else, including himself, be damned.

Nevertheless, having been rather rudely confronted with the idea that perhaps carrying Nico out of the bathroom was not the most practical thing to do, Will tried to think of another way to get out of the difficult situation that he’d managed to find himself mired in.

Will decided, looking at the distance he still had to cover, that he would not risk slipping again. Sliding across the floor, as slow as it might have been, was the safer choice.

Will’s only problem was the door. Part of him wished he hadn’t knocked it down, because he knew that sliding _over_ the door would neither be pleasant nor easy. It was a problem, but a problem that Will didn’t think he had much of a chance to remedy. Time was scarce for Nico.

Using his feet, Will slowly pulled himself across the floor. Thankfully, what had made it difficult to keep his balance made it slightly easier for Will to slide along the tile floor.

Once Will managed to get to the door, getting over it was easier than he’d expected. Granted, it was rather painful having to drag his butt over the hard edge of the door, but after that, it wasn’t as bad as he’d anticipated. Before too long, Will was sitting at the threshold of the corridor beyond the bathroom.

Something was off about the hallway. It took a while for Will’s mind to process the rather strange fact that the floor was now carpeted. He could not, for the life of him, imagine how the carpet got there in the short time he’d been helping Nico in the bathroom.

All Will had to do was look to the side to find his answer. He froze where he sat with Nico in his arms. Skeletons were walking around in the living room. It looked like they had replaced the coffee table already, as well as the loveseat that Nico had accidentally destroyed. They were to blame for the carpet, which was still being laid down.

Will wondered, for a moment, if the skeletons were Nico’s work, like those days back in the infirmary, but he immediately dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Nico’s skeletons probably would have gone after him with ill-intent. These ones seemed happy enough to just… renovate the place.

The knowledge that Hades had sent the skeletons did not help the situation. Suddenly self-conscious, not only for himself, but also for Nico, Will scrambled to hide Nico away from the skeletons. He was not willing to let them see Nico in his vulnerable state.

There was one useful thing about the skeletons’ presence, and Will had to grudgingly admit to the fact. The carpet was perfect for his situation. With it, Will was able to clamber to his feet, by shimmying up a wall, without having to put Nico down and waste valuable time.

Will carried Nico to just outside the door of the bedroom. He glared at the skeletons in the living room. He wished that his glare could make the skeletons go away, but they simply continued rattling on, fixing up the damn place. Will nudged Nico’s bedroom’s door open with his foot.

Will looked around for the light switch but quickly found that he could not reach it. He walked over to the bed. For a moment, Will considered setting Nico down on the mattress, but he knew he shouldn’t, else the bed would be wet. He set Nico down on the floor before leaving to find towels.

For a minute, turning on the light in the room was a thought that escaped Will. He fumbled in the darkness, searching for towels exclusively in the dim light streaming in from the hallway.

Will straightened from where he was rummaging in one corner of the room and smacked himself on the forehead. He could have just turned on the light instead of stubbornly trying to look for something in the darkness. With an exasperated sigh, Will stomped off in the direction of the door and flipped on the light.

With the light to make things clear, Will quickly found out that there were no towels in the bedroom. Admittedly, he should have expected that there wouldn’t be any, but he was not thinking straight. In frustration, Will threw up his hands before running out of the room and into the bathroom to retrieve the towel that Nico had left on the rack there.

As fast as he could, Will ran back to Nico. He towelled off his boyfriend as fast as he could, and as well as he could. He hesitated for a moment, to wipe down Nico’s private parts, but Will chastised himself. He had to act in the capacity of a medical professional. Or at least someone that hoped to someday be a medical professional. He could not let something like that stand in his way.

Once he was done with Nico, Will bolted toward the closet and tore open the doors. Thankfully it did not look like he damaged them too much. Will paused for a moment and observed the clothes that hung there. A whole lot of them were black or dark greys, but there were also splashes of colour here and there. Granted, the colours were dark, muted, and unsaturated, but Will could tell that Nico would probably like them.

Will grabbed the clothes that he thought looked warmest and most comfortable. He ran back to Nico and knelt in front of the son of Hades. He looked down and realized that he’d forgotten underwear, but he realized tha the’d wasted enough time on irrelevant things.

Will felt warmth flood his cheeks as he slowly dressed Nico. He tried his best not to look at Nico’s groin as he slipped the pyjama bottoms onto his boyfriend’s lithe form.

Thankfully, Will mused, getting the shirt on Nico was a far easier ordeal. Will took a moment to catch his breath. He was horribly out of shape. He’d often forgone his daily runs to mope in the Hades cabin. He sat back on his haunches and looked at Nico. The son of Hades, slumped against the wall, looked downright angelic.

Nevertheless, Will knew it was just an illusion. Nico was still in danger. Nico was pale. Nico was cold. Nico’s breathing was so shallow, it almost seemed as though he wasn’t breathing at all.

Will shook his head. There was little he could do about Nico’s condition. All he remembered to do about hypothermia was that he had to warm Nico gradually. Given how Nico was leaching warmth from the environment to begin with, Will didn’t think it would be much of a problem warming his boyfriend _gradually_.

Will slipped his arms under Nico’s knees and shoulders. With a heave and a grunt, he lifted Nico. He looked at Nico’s false peacefulness and couldn’t help but place a tender kiss on Nico’s forehead before laying him on the bed.

Will made a sound of surprise as soon as he set Nico down. It took all of his willpower not to snatch Nico back up from the bed the moment that Nico started sinking into it. The mattress was incredibly soft. Far too soft for Will’s comfort, in fact.

Despite his misgivings about how healthy the mattress was for Nico’s spine, Will knew that it would do just fine for the situation at hand. After all, Will wanted to make sure that as much of Nico was in contact with the insulation of the mattress as possible.

Will grabbed the nearest blankets he could find and tucked Nico into them. They were thick and warm, as far as Will could tell. Despite that, Nico shivered, and Will couldn’t, for the life of him, find anymore.

There was only one thing left to do. It was the only logical thing left to do. Will knew that he radiated heat. Gods knew Jason had commented on it enough after they’d been intimate. Still, Will didn’t know if Nico would react well to it. He just had to hope that Nico would not wake until Will could safely leave.

Will stripped off as much of his clothing as he possibly could. His pants hit the floor. His shirt joined them. Toned muscles and defined abdominals had given way to just plain _thinness_. If Nico had not been taking care of himself over the last three years, neither had Will.

It didn’t matter to Will. The only thing that mattered to him was for Nico to be safe. He could only hope that his warmth would be enough to chase away the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. :D.
> 
> Sorry for the late chapter. I'm working on a solangelo smutfic. *winkwinknudgenudgebailci*
> 
> In any case, I'd like to hear what you think of what happened in this chapter. First of all, how bad do you think Apollo is taking this letting go bullshit that Hyacinthus is spouting? (said from the perspective of Apollo, of course). XD. What do you think of what happened between Will and Nico? Will's definitely not sleeping in Nico's couch anymore!
> 
> Also. Hold on to your butts because SHIT IS GOING TO GO DOWN in next week's chapter! Do you remember the Nameless One? The guy that was Nico's mentor over the last three years? Yeah. Remember him. He plays a good part in the next chapter. ;)


	25. At the Threshold

Apollo had never felt so distant from the sun that was supposed to be his emblem. The sun was bright and beautiful and almost downright cheery as it shone down on the lands that once belonged to Amyklae. Apollo, on the other hand, felt small, and vulnerable, even as he held his beloved prince in his arms.

Apollo had never felt so helpless about _anything_. His arms tightened around Hyacinthus. He didn’t want his prince to _go_. Not now. Not ever. There was, however, a part of Apollo that had always known the responsibility that accompanied godhood, had already accepted, even if the rest of him hadn’t, that Hyacinthus would have to die eventually.

Apollo sighed. The sound was so forlorn and sad that Zephyrus’ heart ached in his chest. He turned away so that he would not have to witness Apollo’s glittering tears splash against the skin of Hyacinthus’ shoulders.

Apollo knew that if he was to let Hyacinthus die, he would make it so that Hyacinthus would die by his hands. He wanted to make sure that the experience would not be painful at all for Hyacinthus. That it would be as pleasant as it could be.

Apollo still struggled to accept the fact that he would have to let go of Hyacinthus. He’d always had a problem with letting go of the people that he’d loved as deeply as he did Hyacinthus. He’d loved the other mortals, the mothers of his new mortal children, but Hyacinthus was something else. He was like them, but apart from them all the same.

Apollo wanted to send Hyacinthus off into the Underworld properly. He wanted to do it with the proper fanfare, ceremony, and respect that suited what Hyacinthus meant to Apollo.

Apollo blinked away his tears and looked up at Hyacinthus. The other man’s face was sympathetic. Apollo couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment. He could only imagine how pathetic he must have looked then, crying because he couldn’t let go of one of the few mortals that was still on his mind after so many years.

Apollo could only imagine how much Zeus would sneer at him for how he was feeling. He could only imagine what the King of Olympus would say about his love for this mortal. Apollo felt a bitter anger rise in his stomach.

Apollo didn’t care what Zeus thought. Not anymore. Not ever again. He would never let Zeus’ whims rule his life and dictate the people with whom he fell in love with. He would never again let Zeus’ ideas of what it meant to be a god bar him from enjoying the eternal life that had been given him by his divinity.

Truth be told, Apollo would squander all his godhood if only it meant that he would not lose Hyacinthus for all eternity. His grief was not groundless. He was soon to lose one of the very few people that he had loved and never forgotten. He was shedding tears, and that was alright, because he _loved_ Hyacinthus.

Hyacinthus’ lips curled in a gentle smile that made Apollo’s heart warm in his chest. Even in this time of grieving, Hyacinthus managed to be a light in Apollo’s life. A gentle reminder that things could have been so much worse than they were.

If it meant that he would have the chance to be with Hyacinthus again, if only briefly, before losing the once-prince of Sparta for eternity, Apollo would have gladly given up half his divinity, and lived three years in maddening isolation all over again.

“Shh,” said Hyacinthus, stroking the side of Apollo’s face, as though able to tell when the tears were about to come again. He didn’t want to see Apollo crying, because it was tempting him to do the same. He didn’t want to cry. Not because he didn’t want to seem weak, but because he wanted Apollo to be strong.

Zephyrus leaned into Hyacinthus. The once-prince of Sparta reached up with his other hand and caressed Zephyrus’ cheek, as the West Wind rubbed both Hyacinthus’ and Apollo’s backs.

The moment was so solemn and somber that neither Zephyrus, nor Apollo, nor Hyacinthus wanted to disturb it with talk. After all, there were no more words to be said. All that remained to do was to offer comfort and solace to each other.

It was Hyacinthus that broke the silence after a long time. “I don’t want any pomp or useless ceremony, Apollo,” he said, as though reading Apollo’s mind. Apollo had spent the last five minutes trying to think of what to do to make Hyacinthus’ passing as memorable as it deserved to be.

“What?” said Apollo. As much as he tried to prevent it, his voice broke. “Why not?” he said, confused. He wanted to do this one last thing for Hyacinthus. Why would his prince not want to be sent off in the way that he deserved to be?

Hyacinthus laughed, and flicked Apollo’s nose with his finger. Apollo couldn’t help but blush at being treated like a child. He didn’t mind, because it was Hyacinthus, but it _was_ embarrassing. “Apollo, what am I?” said Hyacinthus.

“An Apparition?” said Apollo, not quite sure what Hyacinthus was pertaining to. Hyacinthus shook his head then raised an eyebrow. It struck Apollo after that. “Ah,” said the half-god, feeling rather stupid, “You’re Spartan.”

“I’m Spartan,” said Hyacinthus. “Well,” he said, with a chuckle, “Not as much a Spartan as Leonidas, but a Spartan all the same.” The lightness had returned to Hyacinthus’ voice.

Apollo could not help but latch on to that lightness. He wanted to hear Hyacinthus’ happiness. He didn’t want the last thing he remembered of his prince to be whispered comforts because he could not let go. He wanted the last thing he remembered of Hyacinthus to be his prince’s happiness. He wanted Hyacinthus’ smile forever burned into his mind.

“Besides,” said Hyacinthus, as though saying that he was Spartan was explanation enough. Truthfully, however, Apollo was quite satisfied with that explanation. “Besides,” repeated Hyacinthus, “You’ve already given me all the glory that I ever wanted in life and in death. To be loved so much by two of the gods of my people, that they fought over me, and killed me, and came back for me after many thousands of years…”

Hyacinthus looked off into the distance. “That is glory enough for Sparta.” Hyacinthus pressed his forehead against Apollo’s. “That is happiness enough for me.”

\----------

It was dark when Nico jolted awake. He opened his eyes for a moment, and saw nothing but black. He closed them again. He didn’t really feel like dealing with anything at the moment. He had no idea where he was, and he suspected he was in Tartarus, but the thought was no longer as terrifying as it had been years ago.

Nevertheless, it turned out that thinking of Tartarus was a bad idea. Nico was worried. The thought that he had gone somewhere without meaning to was disconcerting. Had he accidentally shadow-travelled away from Will again?

Nico racked his mind for what happened to him. The last thing he remembered was being in the shower. He remembered, faintly, trying to scrub himself down enough to feel ‘ _clean_ ’. He had done it so hard he started bleeding.

Nico expected to hurt all over. He knew that even superficial wounds like those hurt a lot. He expected to feel sore, but he wasn’t. In the darkness, without opening his eyes, Nico traced his fingers along his arms. He found nothing.

Nico allowed his hands to drift down to his stomach. His fingers poked and prodded his flesh. Nothing. If his stomach, where he’d spent most of his time sloughing off his skin, was unharmed, then he suspected nowhere else was. It certainly felt like he was healed all over.

It wasn’t until he tried to get up that Nico discovered he was on a bed. He had tried to roll over, only to find himself sinking. For a moment, he feared that he was on quicksand, but he realized that it was a mattress. It was ridiculously soft. So much so that Nico did not like it.

Nico also found out that he was nestled, rather comfortably, under rather thick blankets. It was warm there, in his little cocoon, but it was comfortable. There was a familiar, lingering warmth that he could not seem to place. Needless to say, it lulled him.

The bed and the warm sheets called to Nico. For a moment, he was tempted to drift back to sleep. It would have been so easy. It was what he wanted. His mind was still sluggish. It hadn’t caught up to the fact that he was awake just yet.

The pain of the truth of Nico’s relationship with Wyn was nothing but an annoying buzz in the back of his sleep-addled mind. He didn’t want to deal with his problems just yet. It seemed that his mind had other plans.

Nico’s eyes fluttered open. They adjusted almost instantly to the darkness. His mind was fully alert. Wyn was no longer just a thought at the back of his head. It took all of his willpower not to be nauseous.

Nico was relieved to figure out that he was clothed despite the weight of the blankets pressing down onto him. There was one thing missing, however. His drakon-skin cloak was not around his shoulders. He felt naked without it.

In one motion, Nico threw the thick sheets off of his body and got to his feet. He couldn’t help but blush and bring his palms to his face when he felt his member dangle unrestrained between his legs. The pyjama bottoms weren’t the most supportive garments, after all, and Nico had just been treated to the knowledge that he didn’t seem to have any underwear at all.

Nico was thankful that no one else was in the room with him. At least, there was no one in there that he could tell. He immediately regretted thinking that someone might have been in there with him. His heart seized in his chest. He knew it was irrational, but he was afraid that somehow, Wyn had managed to sneak into his bedroom.

Nico whirled on his heels in a blind panic. His eyes darted all around the room, searching for any sign of movement in the darkness. He could see, though he could not necessarily discern fine details. It was enough, at least he believed it was enough, to spot if there was anyone hiding. As far as he could tell, there was no one.

As embarrassed as he felt doing it, Nico sighed in relief.

Nico walked over to what he assumed was the closet and threw it open. He had to rummage for a little bit before he finally found the drawer with the underwear in it, and despite the fact that he could not see whether there was print on them, he found a pair of boxer-briefs that he was satisfied with.

Nico didn’t particularly care about the print of his underwear, anyway, since no one would see his underwear anyway. He slipped off his pyjama bottoms and slipped on the boxer-briefs.

Then, an unwelcome thought crossed Nico’s mind. No one would see his underwear, at least, only so long as he didn’t want them to. He shuddered in the dark as he tried to chase the sexual thought out of his mind.

Nico wanted to avoid thinking about sex as much as possible, at least for the next little while. It brought up terrible memories about the truth of his time with Wyn that he would have much rather forgotten.

Nico couldn’t believe how much he had allowed Wyn to degrade and debase him. To treat him like an animal. Worse. A sex slave.

Whether Wyn had truly loved him or not, Nico could no longer tell. He didn’t want to be able to tell. He knew that the answer, whatever it was, would only make the situation even more complicated than it already was.

All that Nico knew was that the sort of things that Wyn did to him, without his consent, without asking for his consent, were the kinds of things that a person would never do to someone that they loved.

Nico’s hands trembled. He let go of the closet door. His knees turned to jelly as he stood in front of the closet. He sank to the floor, fingers fumbling blindly around his throat.

Nico could barely breathe. He felt as though the collar that Wyn had forced on him the whole time they had been together was still around his neck. Only, this time, it was a hundred times tighter.

The worst part of it all, Nico thought, as he fought for air, was that his loins were stirring. Heat blossomed in his groin and spread to his stomach and his cheeks, even as his mind convinced him that he was still collared. That was the worst about what he’d experienced with Wyn.

Nico had _liked_ being debased as he had been. Even now, free from the compulsions, he couldn’t fight the surge of arousal. That only made things worse. It only made breath more difficult to reach for. It was shameful. It was disgusting, at least to Nico.

Before long, Nico was hacking for breath. He was clawing at his throat, even as it refused to obey him. Then, despite his desperation, a pleasant memory bubbled to the surface of his mind.

It was Will. Nico struggles didn’t stop, but somehow, he found strength returning to his limbs as he remembered Will taking his hand. As he remembered having his hand pressed against Will’s chest.

Nico closed his eyes, fixing the memory in his head. He could almost feel it under his fingertips, the steady, calming beating of Will’s heart. He could almost hear Will’s soothing voice. Feel his soothing warmth.

Will was telling Nico to breathe. _In. Out._ Nico was at the edge of his strength. He was about to pass out. He focused on Will. He held on. _In. Out._ He latched onto Will. _Slowly. In. Out._

Like a miracle, Nico’s throat stopped constricting. He gulped down great lungfuls of cool air as he gripped the carpet on the floor with such viciousness that his knuckles were turning white.

Nico was aroused, beyond a doubt, but he was also disgusted at himself, and grateful for the memory of Will. He was confused. He didn’t quite know what to make of his emotions, though he would be damned if he was going to run away from them again.

Nico had grown a lot over the last three years. He knew that running away was what got him into trouble in the first place. If he had never run away from Will, if he had let the son of Apollo explain what had actually happened that fateful night, then Nico would not have been violated for months by the guy that he had thought he could build a new life with. He would _never_ have been Wyn’s thrall.

Thinking of Will made Nico realize that there was only one person that could have possibly carried him from the shower to what he assumed was his room. Will. He felt confused all over again. On the one hand, he was relieved that his boyfriend had saved him from what would have likely been fatal hypothermia. He was sure that by the time he passed out, the water was cold enough for that.

On the other hand, Nico felt sick. Will had seen his naked flesh. Will had seen the scars he had accumulated over the last three years. Will had seen the way that he had rubbed his skin himself raw enough to bleed. Will had touched him. Dressed him, even.

The feeling wasn’t nearly as bad as the panic he had felt earlier, thinking about Wyn, but he still felt rather nauseous.

Nico gathered his wits about himself and pushed himself to his feet. There was no point in feeling sorry for himself. What had happened had happened. At least, with regards to Will seeing him naked and touching him. It did not bother him nearly as much as the idea of Wyn having done it. He trusted Will.

Nico decided to try and put everything aside as much as he could. He was tired, and he was bound to do something rash if he kept dwelling on his problems. He would wait until he’d actually had some rest.

On that note, Nico had to remind himself that he had gotten up to retrieve his cloak. He decided that the drakon-skin cloak was probably still in the bathroom. He walked over to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob. There was a sudden swell of apprehension in his breast, but he persevered and pushed open the door before stepping out into the hallway.

Nico’s entrance into the light-filled corridor outside his bedroom would have been far more dramatic had he not, almost instantly, tripped over the sleeping form of Will. Nico was so surprised that he _squeaked_. He had not even known he was still capable of making such a sound.

Nico looked down at Will and frowned. From the looks of it, Will had fallen asleep just as he was leaving Nico’s room. Will’s shirt was skewed on his torso. When Nico took a closer look, he discovered that it was thrown on the wrong way.

For a moment, looking at how dishevelled Will seemed, Nico couldn’t help but feel terrified. The fears he’d pushed away, as irrational as they might have seemed with regards to Will, came rushing back. A cold knot in his belly, Nico reached around his back, feeling his entrance to make sure that Will had not done the unthinkable.

Nico couldn’t help but sigh in relief. As far as he could tell, no one had violated him.

There was still the problem of how Will’s lower body was blocking Nico’s doorway. His torso, on the other hand, was lying along the hallway. One of his arms was bent at an odd angle, since it was pressed against the wall.

Nico shook his head. He had not realized just how _tall_ Will was, until now. Now that Will was _clearly_ blocking not only his doorway, but also the hallway outside it, and _then_ some, it was made abundantly clear to him that Will was borderline freakishly tall.

Nico sighed and frowned at Will. “What am I going to do with you, Will?” he said, softly, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat at the thought that this man lying on the floor in front of him would perhaps someday expect to be intimate with him. He forced himself to ignore those thoughts. This was Will, after all.

Even then, the reprieve he managed to wrest from the clutches of the fear instilled in him by the truth of his relationship with Wyn was merely tenuous. As much as Nico hated how he felt, he could not help it. He could only hope that either he or Will could find a way to prove that what happened with Wyn would not happen again.

\----------

Leaving the British Isles was quite the experience for the young Welshman. Wyn had grown up in Britain, after all. Wales was more his homeland than the Chicago that had been his birthplace. His true father had abandoned him and his mother there, like so many of the Greek gods. The very thought of that betrayal made Wyn so angry that he felt bile rise in his throat.

Wyn swallowed, forcing the burning acid back down. There, in the plane, headed to New York, Wyn couldn’t help but feel both liberated, and nauseated. At long last, Wyn could spread his wings and fly elsewhere. He could finally go where Arawn had forbidden him for the longest time. He could not help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to Wales.

Wyn couldn’t help but think that he was abandoning the place of his childhood. That he was abandoning the country that had nourished him for his short life. That he was leaving behind the place where his mother had succumbed to the church because she could not deal with the way that Eros had abandoned her.

London would always be the city where Wyn had grown up . The place where he played in the parks and fell in love the first time. There were other memories, far less pleasant, but part of him all the same. London was the place where he was violated regularly for years by his step-father.

Wales was the place to where he’d run when he abandoned his home at a tender age. It was where Arawn had taken him in on that fateful, rainy day. Wyn couldn’t help but think back to the hungry, cold child wandering the streets of a strange city when a man who was warmer than he had any right to be, held an umbrella over him and asked if he would like somewhere to stay for the night.

Little had Wyn known then that the man that had taken him in was the Celtic lord of the Dead, a cruel and capricious man outside the confines of their little home. Still, Arawn had been a warm and constant source of comfort in Wyn’s life. Kind, but still strict and firm.

Wyn had to wonder if he would ever see his adoptive father again. The way that Arawn had said his goodbye made Wyn feel as though he wouldn’t.

That was unacceptable. Wyn resolved to return to Arawn when everything was done. He thought to himself that he would probably take Nico with him. Introduce the Lord of Annwn to the son of Hades properly. Perhaps, when that was over, he, Arawn, and Nico could become a somewhat normal family.

Wyn looked out the window. He had to blink the tears from his eyes. The Isles had long since vanished into the Atlantic. In the meantime, all that stretched as far as Wyn could see was the ocean and cloud cover. He sighed. He didn’t know what to think of what was going on. In truth, he didn’t want to think too much about anything other than getting Nico back.

Sudden movement distracted Wyn from his pondering. He turned his eyes in the direction he’d seen the movement. For the longest time, all he could see was the fluffy layer of clouds illuminated by the moon.

Without warning, a bronze dragon erupted out of the cloud cover. As it rose above the rolling clouds, moisture and condensation streamed from the tips of its wings. Wyn squinted. He could just barely make out two passengers riding on the dragon’s back.

Wyn couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. The dragon’s appearance could have meant only one thing. He was headed in the right direction.

Perhaps all that Wyn needed to be pulled out of his uncertainty was the reassurance that he was doing the right thing. He turned away from the window. He pulled down the slat that sealed away the outside world. He looked forward at the screen that was mounted onto the back of the seat in front of him.

On the screen was the flight-path, and where along it Wyn was. His smile broadened. It would only take a few more hours before he landed in New York. Soon enough he would be one step closer to the love of his life.

Wyn tightened his fist. Nico di Angelo would be his, no matter what anyone had to say about it. Wyn had brought with him a collar to replace the one that Nico had ruined that day about two years ago. He would place it on Nico’s neck himself. Nico, he knew, would happily accept it.

Eirwyn Argall would burn down Camp Half-Blood itself, if only it mean that the son of Hades could be his and his alone.

The sound of amused laughter cut through the sudden, eerie silence of the plane. Wyn jumped, surprised. The plane was fully booked, and yet, the man beside him had vanished without a trace.

The constant dull roar of the jet’s mighty engines and the rattling of the hull had fallen quiet. The hushed conversation in the plane had gone completely silent. Wyn looked around, concerned, all of a sudden, but could not find anything particularly amiss.

Then something shifted. Wyn blinked. It was like the whole world had fallen out of alignment. Wyn looked ahead of him and saw that the entire plane was tilted slightly to the left, but Wyn did not feel anything different.

Wyn looked up and blinked. He rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was seeing things right. The light above his head was shining, but the bulb that produced it was dim, about two inches removed from where the light was coming from.

Wyn looked back into the aisle as a man walked up. The rest of the passengers had frozen in their seats. The man was dressed smartly. The more Wyn tried to think about a way to describe the man’s clothing, the more he couldn’t. They kept shifting the more he tried to fix them in his head, flashing from neanderthal loincloths, to Egyptian royal garb, to what seemed to be a futuristic jumpsuit.

The very fabric of reality seemed to be distorting itself around the man. One moment, Wyn could see patches of the night sky shining through what should have been solid plane hull. The next, the plane was back to normal. Tendrils that looked like they were there, but at the same time, looked like they weren’t, extended from the man.

It all made Wyn’s head hurt. The charm in his pocket, which Arawn had given him to feel out the Greek gods, did not respond to the man. Whatever this creature was, he was not a Greek god, if he was a god to begin with.

The man dropped into the chair beside Wyn and propped his feet up on the headrest of the chair in front. The whole aircraft lurched and turned, to Wyn’s eyes, upside-down. Still, he did not feel anything particularly different. Gravity was still acting as though the underside of Wyn’s seat was the ground.

The light fixture above Wyn’s head had gone, but the bright outline of the bulb, the object that _actually_ was shedding light, was still there. “Oh, the things we do for love, right?” said the man.

Wyn shuddered. The man’s voice was unpleasant to listen to. It sounded as though there were many millions, if not countless billions of voices speaking. The many voices all seemed to be forcefully blended into a single one that sounded, for the most part, human, but was off by just enough that it was unsettling.

“Who are you?” said Wyn, suddenly apprehensive and fearful about this strange and evidently powerful creature that had appeared before him. He wished that he had taken more tutelage under Arawn. He did not have the faintest idea of what to do in case the man attacked him.

“Does it matter?” asked the man, with a chuckle that made the uneasiness in Wyn’s stomach feel even worse. “Don’t bother answering,” he said. “I already know you’re going to answer that it matters.” Wyn’s world spun. The man was looking into the distance, as though lost, for a moment. “You always do,” said the man, softly.

Wyn raised an eyebrow at the comment. Things were getting stranger and stranger by the moment. “I have no name to give you,” said the man, “for I was born without one.” Wyn shivered where he sat. Those words sounded vaguely familiar, but he could not place why. “I know you go to Camp Half-Blood not just to take Nico di Angelo back.”

Wyn very nearly jumped out of his seat. The mere mention of Nico’s name was enough to startle him. He edged away from the Nameless One as much as he could. Unfortunately, the wall of the aircraft was in the way. If he could have, Wyn would have gladly sat on the wing to get away from the Nameless One. “How do you know him?” said Wyn.

The Nameless One laughed. “There is no need to feel embarrassed about being uneasy around me.” The Nameless One turned to Wyn and their eyes met. Wyn very nearly threw up. The Nameless One’s eyes shifted colour and shape so quickly that his mind couldn’t keep up. “After all, I can represent humanity at its most primal, and you humans always dislike having to come to terms with that.”

Wyn looked away and frowned. The Nameless One had not answered his question. “He was my student,” said the Nameless One. Wyn’s heart dropped into his stomach. He was afraid that someone close to Nico would find out and get in his way. “You want revenge,” said the Nameless One. Then, the Nameless One smirked. “I can help you with that.”

Wyn narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could answer, he was interrupted. “There is no catch,” said the Nameless One, “You want to hurt the boy that broke his heart. You want to get rid of the blond that hurt him.”

Wyn felt himself compelled to nod along. The words rang true in the very depths of his soul. The Nameless One seemed to be amused. “I will tell you his name.” Wyn leaned forward. He wanted to get the boy’s name. He had been poring over how to get his revenge without getting Nico first, but now, the Nameless One was helping him.

“Jason Grace.”

Before Wyn could say anything, before he could even _thank_ the Nameless One, reality seemed to _shift_ again, and everything fell into place before the night was pierced by the shrill scream of the man that had been sitting right next to Wyn before the Nameless One had appeared.

Everyone near the windows threw open the covers and looked out. In the light of the moon, they could just barely see the dark outline of the man falling from the dizzying height of cruising altitude.

“Oh my god!” said a woman, somewhere behind Wyn. Wyn could only think the same thing. The Nameless One, as far as Wyn could tell, was ruthless. Wyn couldn’t help but be thankful that he had not inadvertently offended the deity.

By the time the man had plunged through the cloud cover and hit the water thirty-thousand feet below with a resounding splash, the plane had already flown too far for anyone to hear.

Flight attendants were frantically running up and down the aisles, trying to comfort panicked passengers. One of them had run up to the front of the plane to inform the pilots of what had happened.

Wyn did not know how the mortals would explain this incident. He did not know if the Veil could cover up something as inexplicable as this. He didn’t care. He could now carry out his vengeance. He could protect Nico.

Eirwyn Argall would utterly _destroy_ this Jason Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There we go! Here's this week's chapter! I'm sorry! I apologize this is late. I promise I'm not being lazy. I managed to get myself sucked into a Civilization 5 game for about 7 hours. XD. Needless to say, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I certainly enjoyed it. Because the plot is going to start picking up again. At least, in the background.
> 
> What do you think of Apollo's reaction to what Hyacinthus told him? :3. Isn't their story so bittersweet? *cackles evilly*
> 
> Anyway. :3. How about what happened with Nico, when he discovered Will sleeping outside? Do you think his reaction was justified?
> 
> Finally. The bombshell for this chapter. That character you _so_ loved, Eirwyn Argall is making a comeback, and he has a little bit of "help." What do you think Wyn means to do? What do you think the implications of Wyn's visit will be? Last but not least, what do you think the Nameless One has in mind for poor Jason Grace?  >:]
> 
> So! That's it for this week's chapter. :3. I'll see you for next week's. ;).


	26. A Choice and a Sacrifice

Nico was startled from his wondering by a familiar sound: the faint rattling of animate skeletons. Gods knew he’d heard that sound enough to be intimately familiar with it.

Far more familiar than Nico would admit he liked, son of the Lord of the Underworld as he might have been. There were two skeletons by the bathroom. Instinctively, Nico tried to dispel the skeletons once he saw them, but _something_ repelled him.

It wasn’t until Nico realized that the skeletons were trying to fix the door to the bathroom that it occurred to him that they probably weren’t his. Gingerly, Nico stepped over Will’s slumbering body and looked closer at what the skeletons were doing. From what it seemed, they were replacing the doorknob and the hinges.

It looked, to Nico as though the door had been kicked in. He looked across the hallway and saw what had been a hole in the wall that a third skeleton was desperately trying to patch up and failing. Plaster was running down in rivulets from the wall, and the skeleton was shaking its head as though at its wit’s end.

Nico looked down at his boyfriend and decided that Will could wait. He walked over to the bathroom. Will didn’t seem to be too uncomfortable or hurt to begin with anyway.

Nico edged past the skeletons, fully expecting to have to fight past them, but fortunately, they were gracious enough to stop what they were doing and hold the door open for him. Then again, if they were his father’s workers, he should have expected them to defer to him at least in little part.

Having his father’s workers around the place was rather odd for Nico. He would have been more than happy to work with his own—more than happy to live with his own skeletons, in fact. However, the mere thought that these skeletons were Hades’ and that he couldn’t dispel them without great effort, was something else.

It felt weird for Nico to have them there. In truth, they were making him somewhat uncomfortable. It almost felt as though it were an invasion of his private space.

Nico shook his head and pushed the thoughts to the edges of his consciousness. He had enough to worry about without having to think about his father’s workers. He knew that they meant no harm. They were probably just there as a maintenance crew for the apartment.

Nico _was_ somewhat thankful for their presence. After a fashion. Having his father’s skeletons to take care of the apartment, which apparently wasn’t having too great of a first day of tenancy, was probably a blessing in disguise. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about repairing everything that was broken. Judging from the looks of it, there were _many_ things that needed repairing.

Once inside the bathroom, Nico looked around. Things looked mostly alright, but he could tell that there were certain objects that had been replaced. Everything seemed _just_ off. Nico’s eyes landed on his cloak, lying in the corner where he’d left it.

Thankfully, while it looked like the skeletons had gone through everything else in the bathroom, Nico’s cloak was relatively untouched. It had a fine dusting of ash all over it, however. Nico suspected that one of the skeletons must have attempted to pick up the cloak. Needless to say, he was glad that the magic that wreathed the cloak was still in place.

Nico bent down to pick up the cloak, but he snatched back his hand before he could touch the fabric. The drakon-skin was vibrating with hostility. It was radiating a bristling aura of disdain. If Nico hadn’t known any better, he would have said it was angry at him for being abandoned in the bathroom.

Nico rolled his eyes. The magic that protected the damn thing, and by extension, whomever was wearing it, seemed to have a mind of its own. He was not aware of how the Y Ddraig Goch had managed it, but he had not been too keen to ask. The fact was that the magic seemed rather temperamental as well.

Nico bit into his thumb. He’d done it enough times that it no longer bothered him. It hurt like a bitch, sure, but it was routine. He had managed to draw blood.

Nico brought his finger closer to the cloak. The hostility ebbed. At least for the moment. Gods knew the cloak was short-tempered. The cloak hummed in response. Nico was sure that if it could, the cloak would have reached for his blood. Needless to say, at the moment, he was more than happy to feed it.

A single crimson droplet landed on the drakon-skin. Nico had to wonder when, exactly, it had gone hungry. It was probably during the showdown with Poseidon that the cloak had used up much of its energy.

Where the droplet splashed, where Nico’s lifeblood soaked into the cloak, vibrance returned to it. The few scales still sewn into the leather seemed to shimmer and dance. The cloak itself seemed to pulse with life. Nico couldn’t help but smile. Feeding the cloak would definitely be a good thing right now.

Nico picked up the drakon-skin and rolled his eyes in amusement as the cloak purred in his hands. He felt more at ease, now that he was in contact with his cloak again. In one motion, Nico whirled the cloak through the air and got it to settle around his shoulders.

As though master and pet reunited, Nico stroked the smooth hide of the drakon-skin. The cloak itself buzzed happily, having been returned to Nico. After a moment, Nico finally felt the cloak begin to feed.

It certainly helped Nico’s situation that the cloak was endowed with some of the blackest magicks that he had ever known. The blood that he’d given the cloak was just representative of what actually sustained it. The blood, truthfully, was just his permission for the cloak to take what it needed until it had its fill.

Emotions were what fed the cloak. Good emotions. Bad ones. Nico felt peace wash over him, if only tentatively, now that the raging torrent in his heart had been dulled. His pain, and even his joy were muted. They were still there, only they weren’t nearly as sharp. Nico was glad for it. At least he could think clearly for a little while.

Nico walked up to the door and knocked. He didn’t see any reason to be needlessly rude to the skeletons. Apparently the skeletons were not of the same mind. As he walked out, their loose jaws chattered at him, as though annoyed by his presence. His cloak seemed to hiss at the skeletons. It shut them up rather promptly.

Nico rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for his cloak to antagonize his father’s workers. It would be bad enough trying to explain exactly _what_ the cloak was if anyone asked. He didn’t need skeletons to act as witnesses to its rudeness.

Nico clutched the cloak closer to his body as he looked at Will and tried to decide what to do with his boyfriend. He stood there, for a full minute, thinking. Thankfully, his emotions were dulled enough that the thought of carrying Will to his bed was not too repulsive.

Will deserved the kindness, after all. At least, Nico felt that way. Nico was not stupid. He was not oblivious to the probable fact that Will had not had a much better time of the past three years than he had.

Standing there, looking at Will, Nico couldn’t help but wish that he had fed the cloak some of his blood earlier. Before he’d been forced to confront the truth of his relationship with Wyn. He knew that it would have made things easier. He would not have caused nearly as much trouble as he suspected he had, judging from the damage to the apartment.

Nico knew that if his emotions had been dulled, he would not have felt as much pain from the betrayal, the violation, as he had. He would never have gone to the bathroom and scrubbed his skin raw until the water that ran from his body was stained red. He would not have fallen unconscious in the shower.

Nico shivered. What he didn’t know was whether the magic that Eros had worked would have been effective if his emotions had been dulled then. He was pretty sure that he cloak would have tried to protect him from the pain. The damn thing, as annoying as it was, could also be quite protective sometimes.

Nico sighed. Looking back, he was glad that he had not been compromised when Eros did… whatever it was that he had done. Nico felt like shit, but he knew it would pass. He could deal with it.

Nico found the thought of having continued living in ignorance of what had really happened with Wyn to be repulsive. He would have rather been disgusted with himself for what had happened than to be happy about something that was a lie. He was accustomed to being disgusted by himself, after all.

Nico shook his head, chuckling bitterly as he let loose a sigh. Sometimes, having his emotions dulled made things slightly worse. Thinking clearly about himself was not always a blessing.

Nico knelt by Will and gently placed his hand on the small of his boyfriend’s back. Will was on his belly, drooling on the carpet. Nico noticed and made a face. Perhaps carrying Will to his bed was not the best idea.

All at once, Nico felt a surge of nausea in the back of his mind. It was a small part of him right now, whatever remained of his tumultuous emotions that the cloak wasn’t feasting on. If he took Will to his bed, there was no telling what he would do when he woke up. By then, the cloak would surely have been finished with its feeding.

Nico shook his head free of the terrible thoughts and laughed at himself. Why was he even considering leaving Will out there for _that_ when Will had taken him in enthusiastically despite everything that had happened. Both then and now.

Gently, Nico rolled Will over, making sure that Will’s arms weren’t splayed in an uncomfortable manner. He looked at Will’s face. It was serene in sleep. All the same, it was tired. He had never seen Will so gaunt before. So pale. So drained.

Slowly, Nico was coming to realize that Will was truly giving his all to this… whatever it was that was going on between them. He couldn’t help but feel warm. He could feel the cloak trying to feed on his feelings for Will, but he felt like it would be wrong.

The cloak had fed on Nico’s joys and his sorrows and his loves enough over the years. His love for Will was something else. It was his alone, for Will alone, and the cloak had no right to partake in that. Mentally, he swatted away the cloak, and it whined piteously at him.

Nico was firm, though he encouraged the cloak to feed more on the disgust and slight panic he was feeling as a result of the knowledge of what Wyn had done to him.

Nico brushed away a stray lock of Will’s hair and couldn’t help but smile. He was beginning to understand why his mentor had told him that Will would need him almost as much as he had eventually ended up needing Will.

What the Nameless One had said was true. Will was just like Nico. They were both stubborn woolheads at times. But they were also both selfless to a fault. Nico no longer felt weird admitting to that. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of, after all. Nor was it, as the Nameless One had told him, meaningful to feel arrogant about just saying the truth.

Nico remembered how the Nameless One had told him off about feeling arrogant for acknowledging the good things about himself. “ _It’s meaningless to feel like you’re boasting when all you’re saying is the truth. Besides,_ ” the Nameless One had said, “ _With regards to your selflessness, the first step to fixing a problem is acknowledging it_.”

It wasn’t really until then, looking at how drained Will seemed that Nico realized what the Nameless One had meant back then, about selflessness being a problem. Especially in excess.

Nico looked down at Will. Despite the dullness of everything else, he felt a warmth just from being so close to his boyfriend. Perhaps, in fact, it was thanks to the rest of his emotions being dulled that he could feel the distilled love that he had been cultivating for this other young man.

Nico had to wonder, tracing his fingers along the sunken skin of Will’s collarbones, how he had managed to fall in love so powerfully, so quickly, and so suddenly with this particular, annoying son of Apollo.

Nico couldn’t help the small smile on his lips. He didn’t know. He didn’t think he would ever know. He didn’t think he would even _want_ to know. There was one thing he knew for certain. That love, or whatever it was, was powerful enough to shine through even his darkest hour.

Nico slipped his arms underneath Will and grunted. He was surprised at how much lighter Will was than he had expected. Nico suspected it was not because he was stronger than he had thought.

The truth of the situation had become apparent to Nico. Will was not taking care of himself. He had suspected as much. Now it was all but confirmed. Nico sighed. He was concerned for Will.

If Will wasn’t going to take care of himself, Nico supposed that the job of taking care of Will fell to him. Strangely enough, Nico did not find the idea repulsive. Perhaps it was the cloak, but he was more than certain it wasn’t. He would have been glad to pay back the care that Will had given him when he’d needed it.

\----------

Hyacinthus reached up and stroked one of Zephyrus’ wings. He rubbed his forehead against Apollo’s. He was thankful for the proximity and the tenderness. For the chance to be with the two gods that had fallen hopelessly in love with him so long ago. The gods that he himself had fallen hopelessly in love with.

The moment passed quickly. Hyacinthus gasped, surprised when he heard both Apollo and Zephyrus do the same. Hyacinthus felt like he was going to be sick as he felt reality shift around them. His stomach lurched. He felt like he was going to puke, though he was sure that there would be nothing for him to vomit.

It was Hyacinthus, at least as far as he was concerned, that managed to recover from whatever had happened first. He cracked open his eyes. He hadn’t even realized that he had closed them.

There was something off about Apollo and Zephyrus. They weren’t moving. Hyacinthus struggled in their arms, but he couldn’t quite wriggle out of their strong grip. Hyacinthus noticed, moments later, that the gods weren’t breathing either. There was a darkness about them, as though the sun wasn’t hitting their skin.

Hyacinthus screamed. The sound was shrill and high-pitched. He hadn’t been able to make such a high-pitched sound since he came into his manhood. Apollo and Zephyrus vanished in a dark, sparkling cloud of dust that Hyacinthus tried his best not to breathe in.

Hyacinthus’ heart was racing, thundering in his chest. He had no idea what was going on. Was this how death happened these days? He definitely remembered nothing like this happening when he had first died all those years ago.

Hyacinthus looked around. He _needed_ to find Apollo and Zephyrus. Nothing else was particularly wrong, at least at first glance. Hyacinthus’ eyes settled on the ruins of old Amyklae, which looked somewhat _strange_.

It wasn’t until Hyacinthus saw everything else around him that he realized why the whole damn world seemed _off_. Despite the fact that he was _certain_ that he was standing perfectly upright, Hyacinthus could tell that the entire world was slanted around him.

Hyacinthus knew that this was impossible. This was something that his mortal mind could not comprehend. He bent over to one side, falling to his knees. He retched. Nothing came out, but he retched until he was gasping for breath. He was nauseous beyond belief.

When Hyacinthus looked up, forced himself back on his feet, his eyes were drawn again to the nearby ruins. Old Amyklae threatened to make its once-prince hurl yet again.

The weathered stone that had long since succumbed to the ravages of time, seemed to have the pristine stones of ages past superimposed around them. The images of the clean stones, however, were shifted ever so slightly to the right. Perhaps by an inch.

To Hyacinthus, the stones themselves looked as though they were simultaneously falling apart and being put into place by masons. It was a difficult sight to comprehend for Hyacinthus.

Hyacinthus forced himself to look at the ground. He thought that he would find some refuge from the insanity that he had been thrust into by looking at the ground. He wished that whatever was happening would stop, but even simply looking at the grass was nauseating.

Whatever respite Hyacinthus was hoping for did not come. The blades of grass themselves seemed to be off. The ground fell away from him, but he was standing on what seemed to be an invisible platform. The blades of grass had shadows like they _should_ , yes, but there were many more shadows of blades of grass that were not there. It was as though there was an entire layer of grasses that Hyacinthus could not see, but apparently were solid enough to cast shadows.

Even the shadows of the grass that were supposed to be there were not entirely right. _Those_ shadows seemed to be shifted an inch to the right, much like the image of Old Amyklae super-imposed on its own ruins.

Hyacinthus clutched his head, feeling a headache coming on. His temples were throbbing merely from the sight of the grass blades. He nearly lost it when he saw that his own shadow was shifted away from him, as though he were floating in mid-air, even when he was convinced that he was standing on solid ground.

Hyacinthus blinked. In that short breadth of time, he felt the world lurch again. When he opened his eyes, the ground had fallen away more underneath him. The world around him was slanted at an even steeper angle. His shadow was even farther away from him. It was madness. It was madness and Hyacinthus could see no way out.

Despite his courage, Hyacinthus began to weep.

Hyacinthus nearly jumped when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He had never wished more that he had his blade than at that moment. He turned around, though his Spartan courage has long since evaporated because of what had happened to the world. “Apollo,” he said, sounding very scared, “What’s happen—”

Hyacinthus’ voice died in his throat. His eyes glazed over and he became rigid as a board when he came face to face with a man that was _not_ Apollo. He was beginning to fall when the man’s other arm shot out and caught him.

The touch brought Hyacinthus back to consciousness. His eyes were wide as he took in great lungfuls of air. He felt like he’d just been punched in the gut.

Wordlessly, Hyacinthus forced himself to stand alone, away from the man that had inexplicably appeared at the same time that Apollo and Zephyrus had exploded into clouds of dust.

Hyacinthus was certain that he would much rather look at the world that had gone absolutely mad than at the man that stood before him. Where the world had been difficult to comprehend, but still describable, the man was both incomprehensible and indescribable.

It was so very difficult to grasp the man’s true form, as his height changed rapidly from moment to moment. At once he was full-grown, then he would be small like a child. He would be a giant like the ancient Greek heroes, then he would be tiny like a dwarf.

Still, Hyacinthus could just barely make out an outline of the man standing in front of him. It was about his height. Slightly taller. Even the man’s clothing changed from moment to moment.

One instant, the man was wearing a loincloth made of animal skin. The next, he was wearing something that looked downright magical, something so futuristic that the likes of which Hyacinthus had never even dreamt of, much less, seen. The next it was a toga. The next, a gladiator outfit complete with a golden gladius. Then, a suit. Then, full plate armour.

Hyacinthus shook his head and cast his eyes higher. He tried to look away from the man’s clothing, but even the man’s features were rapidly. The man’s eyes changed colours so fast that they seemed to be white, save for the momentary glimmers of colour whenever Hyacinthus blinked.

The man’s features changed, too. Big eyes then small. Hooked nose, then flat. One moment, the man seemed to be Chinese. Then he was Greek. Roman. Nordic. African. His skin changed too. Brown. White. Black. Yellow. Olive. Tanned.

Hyacinthus wanted to scream. It was all too difficult to understand. Too difficult to fathom. “W-who are you?” he said, letting out a squeak when his voice seemed to resonate. His voice reverberated, bouncing off of walls in the world, in reality, that he hadn’t noticed before.

Hyacinthus’ voice made the world hush around him. He could hear the silence as it radiated out from him. The wind stilled. The birds fell quiet. The rustling of the leaves in the trees not too far away became silent. All the sounds of the world died away leaving nothing but an eerie quiet pierced by the static hum of the man’s ever-changing body.

The sound returned moments later, to Hyacinthus’ relief. “Does it matter?” said the strange man. His words brought the same echo and silence that Hyacinthus’ had.

All of a sudden, Hyacinthus fell backward as the man’s form seemed to explode with energy and radiance. He shielded his eyes. He was aware that looking upon the true form of a god was suicide.

When Hyacinthus felt the light trickle away, he opened his eyes. The man’s appearance seemed to have stopped shifting. In front of Hyacinthus stood a man with an impeccable, unmistakable resemblance to his long-deceased father. “F-father?” he said, struggling to get the word out like a good Spartan son should.

In this, Hyacinthus failed miserably. He didn’t know what more to say. His mind knew, without a doubt, that this strange man with his strange eyes, strange smile, and strange face was not his father, but the rest of him didn’t see it that way. Hyacinthus was only human, after all, and what his eyes saw was the man that had given him life.

“No,” said the strange one with a laugh that made Hyacinthus uncomfortable. He _hated_ the man’s voice. It thrummed with not only power, but what seemed to be countless other voices all forced into one, uneasy unison. “But is that what you see me as?” said the man with amusement and curiosity. The man lifted an arm, the woolen robes falling away from it. He examined his bronzed skin and powerful musculature.

Hyacinthus saw his father smile the most unnerving smile he had ever seen. “Interesting,” said the man, looking at Hyacinthus. He knelt down and held a hand out to the once-prince. “I can offer you no name for I was born without one.”

Born without a name? Hyacinthus found the concept ludicrous.

“Ah, but it is true, little one,” said the stranger. Hyacinthus gave a start at the unexpected answer to the question he had never even uttered. It was almost as though the stranger was reading his mind. “You may call me the Nameless One, if you wish. They do often call me that these days anyway.”

Hyacinthus swatted away the Nameless One’s offer of help. He didn’t think it was necessary. He didn’t think he needed it. The nausea had largely seemed to pass. That, and he didn’t particularly like the Nameless One, either.

Hyacinthus didn’t entirely trust the strange entity, and for good reason. He had no idea what the Nameless One had done to Apollo and Zephyrus. He wanted his lovers back. He also couldn’t think of a reason why the Nameless One would take the form of his father and act as though it was unintentional. As far as Hyacinthus was concerned, it was a vain attempt at trying to get him to lower his guard.

Hyacinthus shook his head from side to side, though he took great caution not to look too far into either direction lest the nausea return. He pushed himself to his own feet, musing that there was at least one good thing about the Nameless One’s presence. It seemed to help settle his consciousness.

Hyacinthus no longer felt the nausea as he looked around. The world was as awry now as it had been before he’d fallen. The world was warped, but it no longer baffled him to the point of vomiting. The Nameless One’s presence almost seemed as though it was _allowing_ him to comprehend everything that was going on around him.

“Eh,” said the Nameless One, shrugging. “Bit of a stretch,” he said, almost as though he was reading Hyacinthus’ mind. Hyacinthus frowned. “Oh,” said the Nameless One, “You find that uncomfortable? I shall try my best to stop, then.”

The Nameless One flashed Hyacinthus a cheeky smirk that the once-prince really found difficult to abide. It was severely discomfiting for Hyacinthus to see such an expression on his father’s noble and often stern face.

“It’s more the fact that _I_ want you to not be nauseous and vomiting all over the place that’s keeping you clear-headed,” said the Nameless One. “It’s very difficult to clean vomit from the fabric of reality itself, truth be told.”

There was a kind of flippancy to the Nameless One that Hyacinthus found… abrasive for some bizarre reason. Perhaps it was the fact that everything was going wrong with the world around them, and yet this strange deity was more concerned about vomit, not the fact that it would be on the fabric of reality itself.

The Nameless One looked at Hyacinthus with slight disappointment. He had been looking forward to holding the hand of the Spartan prince. The Nameless One shrugged and walked away, only to stop about two metres from Hyacinthus and sit on _something_.

As far as Hyacinthus was concerned, he could not _see_ whatever it was that the Nameless One was sitting on. He knew there was something there, he could barely see the outline when he looked at it from his peripheral vision, but he couldn’t actually see it when he looked at it head-on. “Are you not more concerned with why I am here and with what happened to your lovers?” said the Nameless One with a knowing smirk.

Hyacinthus looked at the Nameless One. “I thought,” he said, with a glare at the strange man sitting cross-legged on what seemed to be thin air in front of him.

It took a moment for Hyacinthus to remember whom he was with. He knew that he could have been belligerent with his father. He could have been sarcastic. He could have been downright disrespectful and rude, but this man was _not_ his father.

This man was a god, or perhaps something else. All Hyacinthus knew was that the Nameless One was the most powerful creature he had ever known. “Apologies,” he said, quickly, averting his eyes to his feet. “I only meant to say I thought you would not read my mind.”

“I did not think you would know they were my lovers.” Hyacinthus’ words were measured and curt. He didn’t want to, after all, inadvertently offend this strange creature and get smote out of existence in a moment of petty wrath. Perhaps he shouldn’t have thought that. He silently cursed at himself. It wasn’t, admittedly, his finest moment.

The Nameless One laughed. The chorus of innumerable voices that thrummed with his words seemed to be forcibly laughing along with him. “Spartan laconism at its finest,” he said, with much mirth. His amusement did very little Hyacinthus’ reservations. The prince was beginning to feel less and less comfortable with the Nameless One as time passed.

“My dearest prince,” said the Nameless One, eyes seemingly boring into Hyacinthus’ very soul. “I don’t _need_ to read your mind to know that those two were your lovers.” The Nameless One winked at Hyacinthus, knowing that the prince would be baffled by what he would say next. “I know the stories, after all.”

Hyacinthus blinked at the Nameless One, utterly confused, as the Nameless One had known he would be. Stories? “Ah,” said the Nameless One, feigning surprise, “So you do not know?” There was something about the almost patronizing tone of the Nameless One that set Hyacinthus on edge. “Your love and death is one of the myths that survived the peoples of Ancient Greece.”

Hyacinthus felt both warm and tingly, and sick to the stomach, at the idea that his love for Apollo and his death at Zephyrus’ hands were remembered and known by the world at large. He knew that the story could have only shown Zephyrus in a negative light. He did not like that. The gentle West Wind did not deserve such a thing.

“And yet,” said the Nameless One, with a flippant gesture at Hyacinthus’ body, “You’re also naked.” Hyacinthus looked down at himself. His eyes widened as though it was the first time he was seeing himself naked. He had forgotten almost entirely about his state of undress.

Confronted with such a strange creature in the Nameless One, despite his Spartan heritage, Hyacinthus couldn’t help but blush. Instinctively, his hands flew up to shield his member from the Nameless One’s sight, though he was aware that the Nameless One had probably already seen enough of him to satisfy any questions about his form.

The Nameless One’s laughter reverberated in the world and made Hyacinthus even more embarrassed to be naked. “I did not know that the Spartans were so timid, and modest, my dear prince,” he said with a smirk and a wink. “Need I remind you that your cock there is still covered in yours and Zephyrus’ cum? Your chest is covered in Apollo’s as well.”

Hyacinthus looked down at his chest and sure enough, the telltale signs of cum. He felt the fire rise to his cheeks. It wasn’t until the Nameless One laughed and told him that there was no need for modesty that he reluctantly dropped his hands to either side. “What do you want?” he said, trying to avert his eyes from the Nameless One to hide his shame. He also dared to be a bit more demanding in his tone, perhaps to distract the Nameless One from his nudity.

“Now there’s the fire that I was waiting for!” said the Nameless One in an altogether too enthusiastic tone. The Nameless One clapped his hands and rose from whatever it was he was sitting on. “You, my dear boy,” he said, walking up to Hyacinthus, “stand at the beginning of a war that will forever change both Greece and Rome.”

Hyacinthus looked at the Nameless One for a moment and had to wonder if he had been talking to an insane deity. He could see no armies. He had seen no one preparing for battle. He had heard no plans for war. No whispers from the commoners about such a war that would surely have been on everyone’s minds.

“You should know better, Hyacinthus,” teased the Nameless One, “This world is no longer the one of your youth. These wars that involve gods and their ilk no longer concern the common-folk.” Hyacinthus gawked at the Nameless One. That had definitely not been the case with Troy.

Hyacinthus pondered the Nameless One’s words and had to bite back a gasp as an entirely irrelevant aspect of them hit him with an epiphany. He had thought at first that the hum of the Nameless One’s voice was just the sound of countless other voices, but he could now tell that the hum came from those voices speaking the very same words in all the languages that mankind had ever spoken, and would ever speak.

“The gods and the demigods wage war against ancient evils while the world remains largely unaware,” said the Nameless One, looking around him. “It is all for the best, as well.” There was a sad smile on the Nameless One’s face. “Mankind has never been the best at facing the monsters that it created.” The Nameless One looked at Hyacinthus and waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t ask what that means. It’s irrelevant to you, and to most others. Don’t concern yourself with matters out of your control.”

Hyacinthus bristled silently. He wanted to protest being treated like a child, but he was fairly certain that the strange deity before him had lived a very long time and had every right to think of him as a child.

“But you, my boy,” said the Nameless One, leaning forward to examine Hyacinthus with eyes not his own, but that belonged to Hyacinthus’ long-dead father, “you stand at a crossroads.” The Nameless One searched Hyacinthus’ eyes for fear. He found it. It was a very good thing. “You have a choice to make, and a sacrifice regardless of whatever you choose.”

The Nameless One bared his teeth almost menacingly at Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus took a step back, suddenly afraid. “I could as easily make sure that you make the choice I want you to make, but that would be against my nature, against what I represent, and against what I want to accomplish.”

Hyacinthus blinked at the Nameless One, uncomprehending. He wanted so badly to demand that the Nameless One stop talking in riddles, but he didn’t think it would be a very wise thing to do.

The Nameless One chuckled and waved his hand. The world shifted again, and Hyacinthus had to squeeze his eyes shut because nausea threatened to overwhelm him. “We stand at an impasse,” said the Nameless One as Hyacinthus cracked his eyes open, tense and expecting the worst.

Instead, what Hyacinthus saw was that the world was mostly the way it should have been. “Turn around,” said the Nameless One, vanishing from the side of Hyacinthus’ field of view, as though he were just an apparition and not really there.

Hyacinthus took a deep breath and turned around. “There we are,” said the Nameless One as he came face to face with what he had been dreading the most since Apollo and Zephyrus had come to him.

Apollo was on his hands and knees. He was weeping inconsolably. His tears were watering the earth itself as he shook and Zephyrus rubbed his back, trying to comfort the half-god. Zephyrus himself looked to be struggling. The West Wind was trying his best to not break down and weep like Apollo. After all, one of them needed to be strong.

In front of the two was the patch of flowers which Hyacinthus knew housed his soul. It had been his prison and his home for the last thousands of years. He could feel himself growing lighter as he watched the flowers begin dissolving into motes of light that drifted away into the air like a cloud of fireflies.

As time went on, the golden radiance flowing from the flowers became brighter and brighter until the motes of light hovered just long enough in the air to create an apparition. Hyacinthus saw himself. He was dressed in the traditional clothing of Sparta. He was outlined by the motes. He was incorporeal. Merely an image.

Hyacinthus’ heart lurched in his chest when he realized that he was looking at his soul. He watched his soul-self bend down and reach for Apollo. The hand wrapped with light stroked the side of Apollo’s face with a tenderness that made his heart ache.

Before too long, a gentle wind, that Hyacinthus knew Zephyrus had sent, swept away the glowing motes of light and carried his soul to the underworld. As his spirit vanished, Hyacinthus could almost feel the air being drawn out of his lungs.

With the glowing apparition that was his spirit gone, Hyacinthus’ eyes settled on the only thing that could now hold his attention. Apollo. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “Is this what has come to pass?” he asked. The facade of Spartan toughness fell apart at the sight of his two lovers in unrelenting, merciless grief.

Hyacinthus did not want to see either Apollo nor Zephyrus in such deplorable condition, but he believed it was necessary. The laws of life and death had to be respected, after all.

“No,” said the Nameless One softly, unexpected sympathy in his voice. He walked up to Hyacinthus and stood by the prince’s side. “This is what may,” he said, with a grand gesture that swept away the weeping image of Apollo, and replaced it with a series of visions that flashed by so fast that Hyacinthus could not describe them, only watch.

Hyacinthus saw Apollo laughing at times, though the half-god’s smiles always seemed rather forced. He saw Zephyrus dwelling among the treetops, alone, thoughtful, and sad. He saw himself sitting by the shore of the lake in Elysium, quite forlorn.

Hyacinthus saw Apollo lying with others. Spending time with them. Regaling them with stories and professions of love. Yet, despite that, Hyacinthus could tell that this Apollo was never quite… _happy_. He saw Apollo coming home to Zephyrus’ arms at the end of the day. Those arms always brought Apollo into a warm embrace, though they always seemed to be getting heavier and heavier, more and more difficult to keep up. In the darkness they would weep for the prince that they had lost.

“He’s a god, you know,” said the Nameless One. “No matter what he is now, he will always have the blood of a god. Don’t ask. It doesn’t matter. Not yet. I don’t need to read your mind that you want to know what’s happened to him.”

“He’s a god, and he _will_ love others. He _will_ sleep with others. He _will_ have children with others.” The Nameless One paused and turned to face Hyacinthus, whose eyes were still riveted to the images flitting in front of him. “These things he will do with you or without.”

Hyacinthus watched as the eons came and went. He watched as Zephyrus eyes grew sadder and sadder, then duller and duller. Eventually, the West Wind himself began to dull. He faded. He faded as he lost the will to live. Apollo soon did the same, now that he was without the comfort of the West Wind’s embrace to come home to after a day of pretending that all was right with the world.

Hyacinthus saw himself still sitting on the banks of the lake, unaware that his lovers were _gone_.

“Only,” said the Nameless One, voice laden with sympathy, “If he does those things without you, he will compare everyone else to you. He will never forget you. He will never be happy. He will long for you until the end of his days, and he will bring down Zephyrus with him.”

Hyacinthus watched as Elysium itself faded around him, before finally, he gave his last breath and surrendered to oblivion. The visions stopped. Hyacinthus could barely see clearly. His eyes were filled with tears. The Nameless One stepped in front of Hyacinthus. “Now, my dear Spartan Prince, there is a choice you must make.”

“I give you a choice, and a sacrifice either way. This is the way of the world. This is what this circumstance decrees. I am powerful enough to change this, but I will not deny you the _necessary_ pain of making this choice,” said the Nameless One, his eyes boring deeply into Hyacinthus’ very soul.

“Choose Elysium, where none shall remember you and love you but where the laws of life and death will be upheld, and sacrifice them, or choose them and sacrifice the sanctuary that death will bring from the pain of what is to come.”

\----------

The Nameless One’s words were like a deafening whisper in the strange silence of the world; an eerie quiet despite the raging storm around them. “A choice and a sacrifice, my dear West Wind. This is how it must be. I can make it not so, but I shan’t deny you the necessary pain of making this choice.”

“Choose Hyacinthus and sacrifice a life alone with Apollo, where he will come home to you each day, will need your arms, or choose Apollo and sacrifice Hyacinthus’ happiness for all eternity.”

\----------

The Nameless One was brighter than anything Apollo had ever seen before. He was brighter even than the very sun. His brilliance seared Apollo’s flesh, blackened his bones, and turned his very words to ash.

Yet, it was not the Nameless One that Apollo feared the most. It was the choice that he was being given. “A choice and a sacrifice. You understand that this is how it must be. I will not bend the world to my will enough to make it not so. You _must_ make this choice.”

“Choose Olympus and your joy will crumble to dust, or choose Hyacinthus and Zephyrus and raze Olympus itself to the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra! Extra! Extra long chapter this week. <3.
> 
> How did you like it? I definitely enjoyed writing this. I keep dropping bombshells don't I? The Years of my Longing has been rather slow until this point, but things are beginning to pick up. The Nameless One is making it so. ;). The war that is coming might be closer than you think!
> 
> What did you think of what happened here? There was a lot. First. We get unique insight to what the relationship between Nico and Will is like without the layer of all the trauma that's built up over the past three years. Is that how it's going to be from here on out? I can guarantee you it won't be.
> 
> Then the Nameless One appearing to Hyacinthus. Why do you think Hyacinthus is a pivotal player in the coming war? Is it because he has his own role to play? Or is it because without him, Apollo will not have the strength to do what needs to be done? :P.
> 
> In any case, I hope you liked the story. Leave a comment! I would love to read it. <3.


	27. Relationship Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness. I've had a rather busy day. Also. As a heads up, I'll be taking a brief one to two-week break from writing and publishing The Years of My Longing after the next Saturday, 11 April, 2015, meaning that after that, my next chapter is going to go up on, if you're lucky, the 25th of April, or, if you're not lucky, the 2nd of May. I have final exams coming up, that's why. So, apologies in advance. </3

The sky was grey, but the dawn was beginning. The first streaks of sunlight tore across the sky, cutting through the gloom. The first light of the new day streamed into the room, and Will Solace, as much as he would have wanted to slumber a little more, stirred from his sleep.

Perhaps it was something intrinsic to Will’s heritage as a son of Apollo, waking with the dawn. It was a habit that he had never quite managed to shake. Even when he had been hiding from the sun most days over the last three years, when he spent most of his time sulking in the darkness of the Hades cabin in the hopes that Nico would show up even _once_ , he had never been able to _not_ wake up with the sun.

Will stretched his arms above his head. He was on his side, as he normally slept anyway. There was an ache in his muscles that he didn’t quite understand. He supposed it was mostly because of how much he had used his powers the previous day.

Will yawned. He felt rather comfortable. He was swathed in warm blankets, and he was lying on a soft mattress.

Whatever peace Will had, however, shattered almost instantly, as his groggy mind started to wake up a little bit more. He realized that he did not remember falling asleep in a bed.

In fact, the last thing that Will remembered was trying to _get away_ from a bed. Nico’s, specifically. He even explicitly remembered having much trouble with leaving Nico. He remembered managing to get out of Nico’s room, thankfully, without waking his boyfriend up.

Will racked his brain for what happened afterwards, but he couldn’t grasp the memories. He remembered making it into the hallway beyond the door, but anything after that was almost incorporeal. Fleeting. Trying to remember anything was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. It was as though those other memories were hidden behind a dream-like haze.

Will touched his cheek. If anything, the phantom sensation that he felt there, under his fingers, of the carpet rubbing against his cheek, was the most clear memory he had of the time after he left Nico.

It almost felt, to Will, that he had spent a long while with his cheek pressed against the carpeted floor. He lay there for a moment, staring at the wall as his mind sluggishly tried to put together what had happened.

It took Will a little bit to fully wake up. He had used up more of his energy than he had anticipated the previous day. He _still_ felt bone-tired. His fatigued mind couldn’t put together the brainpower to solve the mystery of what had happened.

By the time that Will managed to get his mind functioning at a mostly acceptable level, the sun had risen halfway above the horizon. Beams of golden light streamed into the room from the windows he had not even noticed the previous night. Those golden bars illuminated motes of dust that seemed to dance about even in the mostly-still air.

The world was quiet, and it would have been serene, but as Will became more aware of where he was, the peace began to slip away. His heart sped up in his chest when he realized that he was not alone.

Will looked around, and the beating of his heart became a thundering in his ears. Dread bubbled in his stomach as he realized just where he was. He was in Nico’s room. He was in Nico’s bed. Had he not left Nico, after all? Had he just dreamt that he made it out of the room?

Will took a deep breath and decided to face the truth of his actions. He rolled over and faced the man beside him. It was Nico, as he had feared. His breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment, a terrifying moment, Will could only think that Nico was curled up and weeping.

Nico wasn’t.

Will let out a sigh of relief. He had not managed to ruin things by waking Nico. Against his better judgement, Will traced his fingers along Nico’s arm. He could feel the muscles underneath Nico’s skin. They were tense.

It was as though Nico was a tightly-wound spring. Despite the way that his instincts as a healer told him to do something about it, Will stopped himself. He wondered, for a moment, if he should do something about Nico’s tension. He decided not to.

Even if Nico looked as though he was in pain. Even if the tension in Nico’s muscles told Will that Nico was very much stressed out, perhaps even traumatized, Will couldn’t help but think of how angelic Nico looked when he slept.

Even the frown on Nico’s face, and the thinness of his lips. It was beautiful. Will couldn’t help but feel bad. He felt guilty for admiring Nico’s beauty, instead of thinking of ways that he could help his boyfriend deal with whatever it was that Nico needed help dealing with.

Will decided that Nico probably wouldn’t appreciate being touched while he was asleep. Eros had not told him anything, but it was Eros’ silence that was telling. Will suspected the worst, and if his suspicions were true, then it stood to reason that Nico would not appreciate being touched _at all_. Not for the next little while, at _least_.

Reluctantly, Will withdrew his fingers from Nico’s arm. His breath hitched in his throat. His heart skipped a beat. Nico stirred slightly, curling up into a tighter ball.

Will swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. He was trapped. He didn’t want Nico to wake up while he was there. Gods knew what Nico would think. He needed to leave before Nico woke up and realized that he was there.

Will froze. He didn’t get a chance to get away. Before he could even rise from where he lay, Nico stirred again.

Will’s breath hitched. He hoped against hope that Nico would fall back asleep. The Nico he’d known, after all, did not wake until the sun was well above the horizon.

When Nico raised his arms to stretch, Will knew that there was no getting out of this. There was no leaving before Nico found him out.

Nico yawned, and Will felt his heart skip a beat. The sound of it was so adorable and endearing that he felt warmth creep into his cheeks. He had to struggle to not reach out and hug his boyfriend. That was the natural thing to feel, right?

Nico blinked at the sunlight that was streaming into the room. He had to wonder how long he had slept. He had gotten used to rising early because of the war with Nyx. The military campaign had demanded much from him. Nico had been denied the chance to sleep in. His soldiers had needed him.

Nico fingered the cloak around his shoulders. He could feel that the magic had mostly diminished. He’d dreamt of Wyn, and now he could feel his emotions acutely. There was fear and disgust there. They were a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. It made him want to throw up.

For a moment, a blessed moment, Nico didn’t realize that Will was right there with him. His mind was still somewhat sluggish, and he didn’t instantly remember that he’d brought Will inside when he discovered that Will was sleeping, rather uncomfortably, on the floor in the hallway outside his room.

Nico rolled over onto his other side to stretch. He closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant strain on his muscles. Will, on the other hand, was petrified by the sight. Will silently prayed that Nico wouldn’t open his eyes.

With the pop of a joint, Nico opened his eyes and himself froze when his dark eyes met fearful bright blue ones. The pleasant ache in his muscles turned to cramping pain.

Nico folded into himself and backed away so fast from Will that he very nearly fell off the edge of the bed. “Don’t touch me,” he said.

Will, shocked by the violent reaction, reached out without thinking. Nico’s eyes locked on to his hand and widened. “Nico! Wait! No!” he said, taking back his hand, but not before it was too late. Nico fell off the edge of the bed with a loud thump.

Nico shivered on the floor. It was carpeted now, too. He hadn’t expected that he would react so viciously to Will’s presence, but there was something about the situation that had looked so uncomfortably similar to one of his memories with Wyn that it had triggered _something_.

Will cursed himself silently before he pulled himself to the edge of the bed. He peered over the mattress and looked at Nico, who was curled up on himself. “Nico,” he said, voice as gentle as he could make it, “What’s wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Don’t touch me,” said Nico, with venom dripping from his voice. “ _Fuck,_ ” said some small part of Nico to the rest of him, “ _You should have fed the cloak some blood as soon as you woke up. You know how much it helps._ ” No matter. There was nothing he could do about it anymore. He didn’t want Will to see what the cloak did to him, because he knew that Will would want him to never wear it again.

Nico jumped up to his feet and walked away from the bed as fast as he could. He placed his hand on the doorknob, but stopped. He walked back into the middle of the room. “Will,” he said, looking at Will with baleful, fearful, tear-filled eyes. He couldn’t deal with what was going on inside of him anymore.

Nico couldn’t help but see the concern in Will’s eyes, and find disappointment there, too. Without the cloak to dampen his emotions, _everything_ was going haywire. He was paranoid. He was afraid. He was angry. He was disgusted. He was feeling any and every negative emotion that he possibly could.

“I don’t know if this is going to work out,” said Nico. The words came despite his best efforts to hold them back. As soon as they slipped his lips, he wanted to suck them back in and pretend that they had never happened.

“W-what?” said Will, eyes wide. He bit his lip. Tears swam in his vision. He tried to blink them away. He rubbed his eyes with his hands when blinking wouldn’t make the tears go away. “What do you mean?” he said. Nico’s words had thrust daggers straight into his chest.

Nico looked at Will. The fact that Will looked like he was about to cry did not make things any easier for Nico. Nico couldn’t help but wish that he _had_ given the cloak his blood. He would have been thinking much clearer.

Yet, looking at the disappointment and hurt in Will’s eyes made it easy for Nico’s irrational side to justify what he wanted to do. “I-I” he said, scratching his head as he moved back and forth. The drakon-skin cloak slipped from his shoulders, and he didn’t care. He was too distressed. “I-I don’t think that you a-and…”

Nico paused. He looked away. He didn’t want to look Will in the eye. It was too difficult. “I don’t think we can be together,” he said.

The truth was that without the drakon-skin cloak to dampen Nico’s emotions, and without the shock of revelation to numb him, the truth of his relationship with Wyn was beginning to sink in. Despite his love for Will, he couldn’t move past the disgust and revulsion that he felt for himself for falling for Wyn’s tricks.

Nico could not, as much as he tried, separate the idea of having a potential relationship with Will from the idea of having had a false relationship with Wyn. Whatever Wyn had done had damaged him, and as much as he tried to tell himself that it was okay, it wasn’t.

What Wyn had done to Nico was horrible. Was despicable. Wyn had _lied_ , too. Wyn had made him believe that he was in a loving relationship with a man that would give up anything for him, that would do him no harm. Now that that illusion lay at his feet like a thousand shards of glass, Nico couldn’t look at what he had with Will the same way.

“A-are you,” said Will, rising from the bed. Will stopped when Nico almost fell jumping back from him. “Are you breaking up with me?” He said, with a crestfallen voice.

Will knew that Nico was being irrational. He could see it from the absolute fear and disgust in Nico’s eyes. This wasn’t Nico speaking. This was whatever terrible thing had happened to Nico that was speaking. It didn’t make the words hurt any less. “We haven’t even been together for a day, yet,” he said.

“I know!” shouted Nico, backing away from Will until Will sat back down on the bed. “I know!” Nico braced his back against the nearest wall and slid down. “I-I’m sorry,” He said, drawing his knees to his chest as all the emotions started to overwhelm him.

The tears simply would not stop coming. “I know you probably want to just touch me,” said Nico, burying his face in between his knees as his body shook with powerful sobs. “You want to kiss me. And hold me. And do all those things that couples do.” Nico took a deep, ragged breath. He nearly choked when he sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice trembling, “I don’t think I can do that…”

“Why not?” said Will, frowning. He was on the verge of tears himself. As much as he tried to convince himself that Nico was just being irrational, and that he needed to be level-headed, he couldn’t. This was his boyfriend. Of less than a day. The boy he had given his heart almost completely to. Breaking up with him.

Will stomped his foot, surprised at how petulant he seemed. “Why do you think that we can’t be together because I can’t touch you?!” he demanded. He was being irrational, too, but he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Nico. “I spent the last _three years_ and I wasn’t able to touch you, and I still loved you!”

Will’s voice broke. “I don’t care if I can’t touch you. I don’t care if I can’t hug you. I don’t care if I can’t kiss you. I just want to _be with you_ ,” he said, the tears finally falling from his eyes.

Nico looked up from his misery and yelled back at Will. “Because I don’t deserve you!” he screamed. His cheeks were streaked with tears, and his heart felt like it was being crushed in his chest. “Because you deserve someone that you _can_ touch, that you _can_ hug, that you _can_ kiss, that you _can_ be with!”

Nico’s thoughts turned to what Will had told him about Jason. Jason loved Will with all his heart. Jason could give Will what Will needed. What Will _craved_. Nico couldn’t. Not right now. Not for a long time. Will deserved someone like Jason. “You deserve better than filthy, dirty, used goods!” Nico was shaking, body wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

There was nothing but blessed silence for the longest time. Will worked his mouth, but no words came out. He had no words to say. He didn’t know how he could comfort Nico, tell Nico that he wasn’t used goods. That Nico wasn’t dirty, or filthy, for that matter.

Nico broke the silence. “I’m also afraid, Will,” said Nico, shattering the quiet into a million tiny pieces. Nico looked up and met Will’s hurt-filled, confused blue eyes. Instantly, he felt guilty that he had ever even opened his stupid mouth.

Nico couldn’t stop the torrent of words that followed. He had opened the floodgates, and the floodwaters were coming. They were going to devastate his relationship with the only boy that had understood his pain, that had wanted to become his friend despite everything, despite not even knowing him.

“Because I’m fucking afraid that…” Nico paused. For a moment, the part of him that was rational, the part of him that would have trusted Will with his life, had gained control. It was only for a moment. The paranoia and fear that the truth of his relationship with Wyn blossomed again. “I’m afraid that you’re going to do to me what Wyn did.”

If Nico’s earlier words had thrust daggers into Will’s chest, these words twisted those same daggers that had pierced him.

“Nico,” said Will, unable to hold back the sob that tore through him. There was such despair in his voice that he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself. “Nico, what do you mean?” he said.

Will’s hands were trembling. His _legs_ were trembling. Every part of him hurt as much as his heart did. It hurt, more than he had imagined it would, hearing Nico’s rejection. His sorrow turned to a burning anger. “You know I wouldn’t do such a thing to you!”

“Do I?” said Nico, countering the viciousness of Will’s words with acid in his own. “I don’t even know if I know that!” Nico’s eyes flashed. Inside, he was lamenting about how he was destroying the one good thing in his life, but still, the words kept coming. “I barely even know you, Will!” he shouted.

The truth hit both of them like a brick wall. Silence followed Nico’s angry words. The words were true. Neither of them had ever wanted to acknowledge it. Neither of them had wanted to admit that they had fallen in love with someone that they hardly even knew. At the same time, they both knew that there was just something about being with each other that was _right_.

Nico looked to the side. He squinted in the bright sunlight that suddenly shone into his eyes. It was better this way. He didn’t have to look at Will. “Maybe,” he said, shaking from the sheer amount of emotions raging through his mind. “Maybe I do know that…”

Nico took a deep, rattling breath. “No,” he said, “I do know that.” There was something to Nico’s voice that raised Will’s hopes. “I know you wouldn’t do such a thing to me.”

Nico looked at the ground in front of his feet. He felt guilty about what he was going to say. He felt terrible. He felt disgust just thinking about it. “But I also knew that Wyn wouldn’t do such a thing to me!” Nico shook his head vehemently from side to side, “I trusted him!”

Nico wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face between his knees. His grip on his wrist tightened until his knuckles turned white. “I trusted him and look what happened!” he said, looking up at Will with an accusatory glare. “He…” Nico almost choked. “He—”

Nico couldn’t do it. He couldn’t talk about it. Whatever he was going to say was cut off by his strangled sob.

Will frowned. Everything that Nico was saying hurt him. More than he had ever thought it would hurt. Some part of him was convinced, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Nico was just grasping at daggers to throw at him, to hurt him enough so that he would go away.

That same part of Will also believed, sincerely, that Nico was doing that in a twisted attempt to protect him from further hurt. All the same, that part of him also saw Nico’s attempts to scare him off as a challenge. It was a challenge to him. It was a challenge to their relationship. It was a challenge that he would overcome. For the both of them.

Will climbed down the bed. He crawled across the floor and sat in front of Nico. He sat in the way of the beam of sunlight that was shining in Nico’s eyes. He felt strength seep into his bones. From the sheer fatigue that he could see in the way that Nico sat, Will couldn’t help but feel guilty that he was drawing strength from the sun while Nico couldn’t.

Will looked at Nico. His eyes were swimming with emotions, but above all, they glittered with hurt. Hurt that Nico would believe he was capable of doing such evil. “What did he do to you?” he whispered, in the silence pierced only by the inconsolable sobbing of Nico.

It took a while before Nico answered. Nico was more than content, at the moment, to bury his face between his knees and cry. He felt terrible. He felt like shit.

Will wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Nico and say that everything was okay. The only thing, and perhaps, the worst thing about the situation, was that he wasn’t _sure_. He didn’t know if this was something he could help with. He didn’t even know _how_ he could help to begin with.

Finally, after the longest time, Nico looked up, eyes red, and cheeks streaked with dried tears. He averted his gaze almost instantly, refusing to look Will in the eye. “He made me believe,’ he said. There was a bitterness to his voice that surprised even him. It made sense, though. That bile was put in his words by the fact that he had had too many people he cared about lie to him. “He made me believe that he and I could have had a life together.”

Nico rested his chin between his knees. The sobbing had stopped, if only for a moment. He’d allowed his anger and despair to come through enough. “He made me believe that he loved me. That he would do anything for me.” Nico turned to Will. “That he would never, _ever_ hurt me.”

Nico’s expression was unreadable. Nevertheless, there was grief glimmering in his dark eyes. There were also tears in the corners of his eyes, born from hurt at Wyn’s profound betrayal. “If there wasn’t always the part of me that reminded me of you,” said Nico, eyes sharp as though they were boring into Will’s very soul, “I would have started a life with him there. Away from all of—”

Will couldn’t bring himself to talk. If he thought the words before had been hurtful, hearing Nico talk about someone else like this, was a hundred times worse.

Nico laughed, bitterly, not noticing the conflict on Will’s face. He gestured at everything that was around them. The walls. The carpet. The wardrobe. “—All of this bullshit,” he said, “Away from the gods. From the monsters.” He flung his hand in Will’s direction. “From the demigods, most of all.”

There was something about the idea of Nico wanting to get away from him, for _good_ , that made Will’s chest hurt. Physically, almost. Before Will could apologize once again for driving Nico away, Nico started talking again.

“I thought he was just another guy,” said Nico. His voice was soft. “Turns out—” Nico interrupted himself again with another sob. He’d tried his best to force it down, but it had come nonetheless. “Turns out he wasn’t.”

“I’m pretty sure I did love him, Will,” said Nico, suddenly taking great interest in his feet. He felt weird talking about this to Will, on top of his already conflicting emotions. He wasn’t sure that this was the kind of thing that he should be talking about with the guy that had moments ago been his boyfriend. Was Will still his boyfriend? He had kind of broken up with Will, but not really. It was complicated. “No,” said Nico, whispering, “I _know_ I did.”

Those words, as much as they were true for Nico, hurt. They cut Will deep, and Nico could see the pain in Will’s eyes.

Nevertheless, Will couldn’t blame Nico. Some small part of him had fallen in love with Jason, anyway. In those three years that Nico had been gone, some small part of him had fallen in love with the one guy that acted as his pillar of strength.

Jason had been there for Will when no one else had been. When the person he thought was his best friend, Lou Ellen, had seemed distant and even downright afraid to come near him. They had since made up, but Lou Ellen was working on something else now. Still, even if part of his heart had been captured by Jason Grace, the rest of him never let him forget about Nico.

“But now,” said Nico, jolting Will out of his thoughts. Nico looked at Will with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t even know if that love was real anymore.” Nico fought the urge to vomit. “Or if it was just something he made me feel with his powers.” The thought that love could be used so flippantly scared Nico more than he cared to admit. It was a thought that he didn’t think he could handle.

After all, what if the only reason he loved Will was because Eros had—Nico shook his head to chase the horrid thought out of it. He didn’t want to even _contemplate_ that possibility.

For a long time, Nico was silent again. He was trying to find the words. Will couldn’t find the words himself. Whatever he tried to say died as quickly as he came up with it.

Finally, Nico broke the quiet. “He used me, Will,” said the son of Hades, with a surprising vulnerability in his voice. His breath caught in his throat. The words had been difficult to think of, and even now, they were trying their best to claw their ways back into the recesses of his mind.

Nevertheless, there was a part of Nico that understood that Will was different from Wyn. This more rational part of him recognized just what Will meant to him. Could separate what happened to him and Will from what happened between him and Wyn.

This part of Nico _trusted_ Will. It also told him that Will, at the very least, deserved to know what had happened. “I was like—” Nico sobbed. The words had not become any easier. “I was like a-a-a pet to him.” Nico squeezed his eyes shut, the tears falling from the corners. “I was a slave to him.”

“I was—” Nico paused. He nearly choked on another sob. He didn’t think he could say anything else, but he forced himself to. “He used me for his pleasure,” he said, before finally breaking down into inconsolable sobbing again.

Nico wished the drakon-skin cloak was around his shoulders to dampen his emotions, but at the same time, he knew that it was kind of cheating. It was running away from his problems all over again. He didn’t want to do that anymore.

Nevertheless, Nico felt dirty. He rubbed at his arms. It was almost as though the layer of grime that had been there last night was still there, even if he had already scrubbed his skin raw. Nico held his fingers to his temples. “I-I” he said, feeling a sudden swell of nausea, “I think I need another shower.”

Thus far, Will had only been listening. His heart felt like lead in his chest. Heavy, and cold. His heart was wrapped in layer upon layer of despair that was beginning to, like hydrogen around a young star did at the beginning of its life, ignite.

Will’s sorrow turned to blazing anger at the words that Nico had just spoken. He’d suspected it and feared it ever since Eros had not answered his question the previous night, but hearing it from Nico made it real. Made it terrifyingly real.

Will couldn’t help the utter loathing and contempt that bubbled in his stomach. This Wyn person had hurt Nico. Wyn’s eyes burned with hatred, but not for Nico, no. He could never bring himself to hate Nico. In truth, he had never been able to bring himself to hate anyone.

This time was different for Will. This time it was personal. This Wyn guy had hurt the most important—for one reason or another—person in his life. It was Wyn that had reduced Nico to this. It was Wyn that was going to pay for it.

“No, Nico,” said Will, firmly, as Nico tried to get up. He placed his hands on his hips to emphasize his point.

The comment about taking another shower had jolted him out of his anger-filled thoughts and his misery. It reminded him that Nico wasn’t in the right mind.

Will wiped the tears from his eyes and recognized that at least for now, he needed to be the pillar on which Nico could lean on, if Nico wanted to, for so long as Nico was dealing with this difficult time. “You don’t need another showe—”

Before Will could finish, Nico’s world started spinning. He’d only been half-listening, but he was pretty sure that Will didn’t want him to take another shower.

From the way that Nico felt as though the entire world was falling apart, he didn’t think that Will needed to stop him. He pitched forward. His arms spilled out in front of him.

The last thing that Nico saw before the world turned black was Will practically diving to catch him. He never even felt Will’s strong, warm arms save him from falling flat on his face, before he plunged into the shadows.

Will shook Nico. “Nico!” he cried out, terrified at the way that Nico’s body hung limp in his arms. “Nico!” he said. “Don’t do this to m—!” Will’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell over with Nico firmly wrapped in his arms.

\----------

When Will was finally able to see again, when his vision cleared, he felt different. He felt completely _detached_ from his body. He felt as though he was floating on a bed of water. He didn’t recognize where he was, but he didn’t have to. Not as soon as he saw what was happening in front of him.

Standing in front of Will was a man. He was lean. Beautiful. Naked as some of those statues from olden times. His hair could only have been described as perfect. Unruly but soft. The smile on his face showed no crooked teeth. No blemishes. No imperfections that weren’t, in their own way, perfect.

Even the flush on the man’s face, and the sweaty sheen covering his body was perfect. His musculature, every bit as well-crafted, defined, and toned as the rest of him, rippled with his every movement.

There was only one problem with this man, as far as Will was concerned. This rather big problem was the other man, beautiful in another way entirely from the first. This other man was seemingly innocent and sweet, but from the noises coming from the other man’s throat, and the way this other man was bent over the bed, clutching the sheets, one would think that the man was anything _but_.

It was a filthy sight. One that Will wanted nothing more than to avert his eyes from. One that made him sick to his stomach. The other man was Nico, and from what Nico had told him, Will was sure, beyond a doubt, that the other man was Wyn.

As though spellbound, Will walked over to where the two were fucking by the bed. He wanted to both look away and get a closer look. Will couldn’t bring himself to watch Wyn’s cock slip into and out of Nico, but he could tell that Wyn was fucking his boyfriend roughly.

In one of Wyn’s hands was a leash. It was taut, even as Nico threw his head back and cried out. The other end of the leash was clipped to the front of the heavy leather collar wrapped around Nico’s neck. Will wanted to vomit even more when he saw a silver skull pendant attached to the d-ring that looked sickeningly familiar.

Will couldn’t contain his anger anymore. His blood boiled in his blood. He strode over to Wyn and threw a punch. Then another. And another. None of his punches connected.

As much as Will tried, his hands only passed through Wyn. He tried to make a grab for Nico, desperate to save his boyfriend from the ghastly scene in front of him. It was to no avail. It was almost as though he was a ghost. Incorporeal. He was incapable of interacting with what was going on around him.

Despair was about to overcome Will when he heard sobbing. He realized, instantly, that he was not alone in this strange place that he had found himself in. He looked around, and as quickly as that, his eyes landed on Nico.

The son of Hades was curled up and crying in a corner, by a strange potted plant that Will had the oddest desire to burn to ashes. Those thoughts were chased away by a sudden stab of fear in his heart.

Nico was crying inconsolably. It was too much. He couldn’t handle it. To be plunged right back into the memoryscape was too painful. Will ran over to his boyfriend, worried.

Will reached out to squeeze Nico’s shoulder in comfort. Thankfully, his hand did not pass right through. “Is this what he did to you?” said Will, unable to keep the venomous edge from his voice. “Is this what you were talking about?” He said.

The anger in Will’s stomach was burning brighter than it had before. IT had been one thing to hear the words coming from Nico, it was another thing entirely now that he had _seen_ firsthand the defilement of his boyfriend. Will wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Wyn’s neck and wring the life out of the bastard that had hurt Nico.

“Yes,” said Nico, after a bout of sobbing left him breathless. He didn’t look at Will. Couldn’t. So overwhelmed with what was going on, Nico found that he couldn’t keep the truth from Will anymore.

With a ragged gasp, Nico admitted his dirty little secret. His whisper reverberated in the memory. “I liked it,” he said, sending a shard of jealousy through Will’s chest.

Will knelt by his boyfriend. He squeezed Nico’s shoulder again. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know if it was appropriate to say anything. Will looked back at the scene playing out behind him. He looked away quickly. The sight still turned his stomach.

“It’s natural to like sex, Nico,” said Will, finally, after a minute of deliberation. He reached down, against his better judgement, to stroke the side of Nico’s face.

Nico slapped Will’s hand away from his face with more force than he had intended. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed, voice breaking before he could finish his warning. “No,” said Nico, clutching his knees closer to his chest, “It’s not natural to like sex when you’re forced into it.”

The memoryscape dissolved around the two demigods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Here we stand. I know I promised happy things to come in the Years of My Longing, but Nico and Will have a lot of stuff to take care of first. They have problems. A lot of them, and they're not even sure if their relationship would survive the process of trying to fix those problems, so it's going to be a very difficult time.
> 
> I'd like to hear what you thought of this chapter, because it was a difficult one to write. It was enjoyable, yes, but it's difficult to write Will and Nico fighting about something like this because it's so clear that neither side can fully understand the other. 3. Also. What do you think of how Will was pulled into Nico's flashback episode? Do you think it will give him insight to try and deal with what's going on?
> 
> As always, leave a kudos if you liked the story, and leave a comment if you like _me_ because I sure as hell love reading your thoughts on what's going on in the story.  <3.


	28. Big Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NEW PAIRINGS:** Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Percy Jackson/Connor Stoll.
> 
> **NEW TAGS:** Heterosexuality, Penetration Aversion, Hand Jobs, Open Relationships.
> 
> **A/N:** Alright. Quick notes on this chapter. There's going to be a bit of a sexual situation between Percy and Annabeth in this chapter. It's not penetrative sex, but nevertheless, I'd like you to forge through it because it's narratively important.  <3.

Will didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid that he was returning to his body. When he finally regained control, the first thing that he saw was Nico gasping for air. Suddenly afraid, Will removed his arms from around Nico’s body. Nico scrambled away from him as fast as possible.

Will remained lying there, on his side, in the beam of sunlight. He was trembling, but not from sadness, or even anxiety, as he normally did. Will was trembling with the sheer effort of containing his anger, the fury of a thousand suns embodied in his bloodline and his heritage as a son of Apollo.

Will tried to breathe, but he couldn’t, not without saying the one thing that was on his mind. The one thing that was screaming to be said. “Nico,” he said, looking at his boyfriend who was shivering in one corner, “I will end that miserable fucking bastard that did this to you.”

Will clenched his fists and sat up. “I swear it on my life.” His knuckles turned white, but he forced his hands into his lap. “If I ever see that fucker, only one of us will walk away alive,” he said, with burning determination.

Nico looked up at Will. He was momentarily relieved from his self-loathing and his distress by his surprise. Surprise at hearing such venom and hatred dripping from Will’s words.

The Will that Nico had known from three years ago had always seemed to him to be a kind soul. Then again, he supposed that he had no business believing that Will hadn’t changed a lot in the last three years, when in that same time, Nico had changed so very much.

In fact, not even Nico himself was aware of how much he’d truly changed.

Yes, there was a part of Nico that was interested in this threat of violence from Will. There was some part of him that was titillated by the idea of Will taking revenge on Wyn. _Hurting_ Wyn. Yet, there was another part of him that would not abide the idea. If anyone should take revenge on Wyn, said that second voice in his head, it was _him_.

This second voice in Nico’s head told him that Will should not be involved in the matter at all. It was none of Will’s business after all. What had happened between him and Wyn was his business. This fight wasn’t Will’s.

Even more, however, there was a third voice. It was a part of him, much to his surprise, that wanted nothing to do with revenge. It was a more sympathetic and human side of him that had not had much of a chance in the last three years to show itself.

This part of Nico did not want to hurt Wyn, not from some misguided notion that the only person that deserved to hurt Wyn was him. Perhaps, the third voice argued, it was only just to hurt Wyn a little. This part of Nico begged him to show restraint.

This third voice told Nico that hurting Wyn was alright, so long as it was only as much as was just. This part of him told him that Wyn really _had_ loved him. Probably still did. This part of him said that as much as Wyn was a son of Eros, he was as misguided as most everyone else. That Wyn simply did not understand what love meant, and what love truly was.

Nico feared that part of himself above all others. He feared it because he didn’t _want_ to think of Wyn as human. He didn’t want to think of Wyn as anything more than a monster. He feared it, as well, on the off-chance that it was a remnant of Wyn’s compulsions, embedded deeply by months of being with the son of Eros, in his mind.

“No,” said Nico, breaking the silence that had followed Will’s words. The softness and downright tenderness of his voice surprised both himself and Will. “No, don’t,” he said, gulping audibly, “Don’t involve yourself in this, Will. This isn’t your battle.”

Will didn’t know why, but his anger chose that moment to lash out. It hit the nearest and most vulnerable target: Nico. “What the fuck do you mean this isn’t my battle?” he demanded, forgetting all pretence that he was opposed to swearing, “Of course this is my fucking battle.” He glared at Nico. His blue eyes flared with the light of the sun at his back. Will was being irrational. “Are you fucking defending him?” he said, voice incredulous.

Nico looked away. Was he defending Wyn? He didn’t know. All the same, he didn’t want to meet Will’s eyes. A part of him was defending Wyn, yes, but he was still trying to convince himself that he didn’t want Will to hurt Wyn because the only person that had any right to hurt Wyn was him.

“Oh that’s it, isn’t it?” said Will, acid dripping from his words. “The good and noble Nico di Angelo,” he said, “Just like Perseus fucking Jackson.”

Will leaned forward. “Why the fuck are you defending the guy that practically raped you for a full _three months_?!” he demanded. He banged his fist against the wall. He only realized the folly of his mistake moments later, when pain lanced up his arm and made him cry out.

“I-I” said Nico, grasping futilely for words. He dared not look at Will. He knew what he would see. Anger. Hurt. Disappointment. Grief. “I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I just… I have this feeling that violence won’t really solve anything. It would just make matters worse.”

Will shook his head. Frankly, he didn’t agree. If Wyn was dead, then there was no reason for Nico to fear the fucker, and they could get on with their lives. Will decided to say nothing as he nursed his hand. Just a little flare of his healing light was enough to reduce the pain to a dull throbbing.

Will thought that it was too much. This conversation hurt too much. He looked at Nico and asked the question that had been on his mind since the previous night. “Do you still love him after everything he did to you?” he said.

Will had meant the question to be about Wyn, but he realized, soon after, that it could as easily have been about him. There was a twinge of hope in his voice, alongside the anger. He didn’t understand why Nico would love someone as evil as Wyn, but at the same time, he hoped that Nico did, because then it would be reassurance that Nico would still love him after everything that had happened between them.

The silence between Will and Nico stretched for what felt like an eternity. “Yes,” said Nico, voice strained. “Yes,” he repeated. He felt as though he was torn halfway between laughing and crying. “Maybe if things had been different… If I hadn’t been so in love with you, I would have fallen completely in love with Wyn. I would have stayed with him.”

Nico was trembling with the gravity of what he was saying. The fear that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. “Maybe it was just his powers. Maybe it was just me looking for someone to fill the hole in my heart.” Nico looked up at Will, cheeks streaked with fresh tears. “But there was always a part of me that didn’t want to stay with him, I don’t think. There was always a part of me that wanted to come back here. To you.”

Nico didn’t know why. It made no fucking sense, but the words were coming easier. “Because,” he said, “Because for some fucking reason, and I don’t even have the faintest idea what that reason is… It just feels so _right_ to be here with you.”

Will opened his mouth to talk, but Nico didn’t give him a chance. “And I’m afraid _because_ I don’t know that reason,” said Nico, looking at his hands with disdain. “I’m afraid of not knowing because what if it’s just another trick by the fucking gods? If Wyn could make me believe that I loved him, that we were happy together, then what could the gods do?”

Nico’s voice became soft. No louder than a whisper. “What if it’s just someone abusing their powers and meddling where they have no business meddling?”

Nico buried his face between his knees. Will was stunned speechless. Nico’s words came muffled. “What would you do, Will?” he asked, “What would you do if whatever the fuck this is between us was just because Aphrodite thought it would be cute? Or because Eros thought it was hot? What if that is all this is? A game to the gods?”

For a sickening moment, all the anger in Will’s body evaporated. Fear the likes of which he had never known before gripped Will’s heart, and he found that his voice was useless. He couldn’t answer Nico.

Truth be told, Will couldn’t even _imagine_ what he would do. He could only even begin to understand why Nico was thinking this way. From the way that Nico had talked about Wyn the previous day, Nico had thought they were genuinely happy together.

It made Will sick to his stomach to truly understand even just a fraction of what Nico was going through. Even the remote possibility that something so genuine could turn out to be false. That love itself could be toyed with. It was disturbing. Will couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be the one that was the subject of that toying.

“I don’t know,” said Will, after a little while. His voice was as soft as Nico’s. Nico had managed to pull him from his anger. Nico had managed to place him squarely on the same boat as Nico was.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” said Nico. He turned to face the wall. He leaned his forehead against the surprisingly-warm stone. If there was any definitive way to end a conversation, Will was certain that it was what Nico had just done.

Truth be told, Will felt somewhat hurt that Nico was clamming up again, but now that he understood what Nico was feeling, at least a little, he could see why Nico would want to stop talking about it.

Will, after all, knew that he had no right to demand that Nico open up to him. He was only Nico’s boyfriend, after all. Or was he still? He didn’t even know. The situation had gotten rather complicated really fast.

Besides, now that his mind was a bit clearer, Will was happy that Nico had opened up to him at all. He didn’t know what had prompted it, but he couldn’t help but think that at least some part of Nico still trusted him despite everything that Nico had been through.

Will couldn’t help but feel warm inside because of that. “Is there anything that I can do to help?” he said, not knowing what else to do.

“I—” Nico’s breath hitched in his throat. He felt guilty that he was about to ask this of Will. After three years of being alone, and after three years of being apart from Will, he was about to ask Will for _space_. “I just want to be alone,” he said.

Whatever warmth Will had been feeling evaporated. He felt a pang of hurt and helplessness in his chest. He nodded, after a long time. Reluctantly. Even if Nico couldn’t see him. “Well,” he said, “I’ll give you your space.”

“Thank you,” said Nico, voice soft.

“There’s an Iris Message room in the apartment,” said Will, surprised to find his voice was suddenly thick with emotion. He had to try his best to not break down crying. “If you ever need anything…” he ventured.

“I know, I know,” said Nico, interrupting Will. He didn’t sound irritated. Not one bit. Only tired. So very tired. “I’ll call you.”

“Alright,” said Will, clambering slowly to his feet. He kept his eyes trained on Nico, just in case anything else happened. He placed his hand on the doorknob and pulled the door open. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, before stepping out, “I hope?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Nico shrug. “I hope so, too,” said the son of Hades. Will started to close the door slowly. “Oh, and Will,” said Nico with what sounded like a bitter and forced laugh, “I won’t take a shower.”

Will didn’t know why but those words gave him relief. When he heard the sound of the door clicking shut behind him, he leaned his back against the door and sighed.

There were more questions in Will’s head about what happened to Nico, more questions about where their relationship was, and where it was headed. He had hoped that things would become more clear as time went on, but unfortunately for him, he had more questions now than he had from the day before, and that was when Nico had shown up, inexplicably, from gods know where, declaring that war was on the horizon.

Will shook his head. There was no use dwelling on his misfortunes. It helped no one. Especially not him. Especially not Nico.

Will didn’t want what he had with Nico to end. He didn’t really know what else to do other than ask an expert. The problem was who to ask.

Will thought for a moment and came to a conclusion. He would rather chew his arm off than ask Aphrodite. He would rather chew his _dick_ off than ask Eros. He was going to ask someone more personable and less infantile. There was only one person in the camp as far as he knew that fit the bill.

Piper McLean.

\----------

Lying awake as the sun rose, Percy couldn’t help but wonder as he always had, why Annabeth hadn’t yet gotten an apartment or a house at Theopolis. Better yet, he supposed, why hadn’t he? It wasn’t like his dad was the patron god of the city or anything. It wasn’t like he had every reason to get the most fancy place money could buy in the city.

Nevertheless, as the sunlight filtered into the Poseidon cabin from outside, making the fountain cast beautiful dancing lights all over the place, Percy couldn’t help but think that he could wait for such a big move like that.

It wasn’t like the Poseidon cabin was uncomfortable. It felt like home, to Percy. He felt like he wasn’t going to get any annoying siblings living with him any time soon. Tyson didn’t qualify, but Tyson hadn’t visited in a very long time. Percy was pretty sure, and was kind of a little proud of it, too, that because of him, Poseidon had been pretty much turned off from having children. At least for the next thirty years or something.

Percy pulled his arms closer to himself. He buried his face in the crook of Annabeth’s neck. He breathed in her scent and rubbed his cheek against her soft blond hair. Truth be told, there were times when Annabeth’s hair reminded Percy so much of Jason’s that he wondered what it would feel like to do the same to Jason.

The thought had crossed Percy’s mind on more than one occasion. All those times, he’d found it disturbing. Jason was his bro, after all. His best friend. Or, well, Jason had been both of those, at least.

It’s not like Percy and Jason had drifted apart over the years. They were still doing the same old things together. Practise. Competitions. He just didn’t know why, but there was almost always something off. Jason had been growing more and more reclusive over the years, and he never really could figure it out, until yesterday.

Yesterday’s fiasco with Jason kissing Nico had helped shed some light on the whole Jason-being-off thing. Truth be told, Percy still felt like an ass for confronting Jason at the table about Jason’s sexuality, when he himself wasn’t even sure what exactly _his_ sexuality was.

Before Percy could think of anything else, Annabeth stirred. She rolled over to face Percy and pressed her lips against his. Before Percy knew it, he could feel the fabric of Annabeth’s bra against his chest. Smiling into his kiss with Annabeth, Percy reached behind her back and toyed with the clasp of her bra.

“Really, Percy?” said Annabeth, feigning annoyance at what Percy was doing. Truth be told, she was glad for it. It was the one constant in their mornings these days. Gods knew what emergencies in the building of Theopolis came up every single day. Most nights, Annabeth returned to the Poseidon cabin only when Percy was already asleep.

Percy couldn’t help but stare at his girlfriend. The sun caught in the golden wisps of Annabeth’s morning head of hair, and made it seem as though she had a golden halo splayed around her head. The sight stunned him for a moment, until he pressed his lips insistently against hers. “Morning, wise girl,” he said, cracking a smile.

“Mmph,” said Percy, rubbing his nose against Annabeth’s. They were both in their underwear. Percy was in his blue boxers with printed sea-horses, while Annabeth was in shorter, gray, owl-printed boxers.

The first time that Percy had bought Annabeth sexy underwear was after they had their _big talk_. He’d known that Annabeth was penetration-averse, but he’d decided to buy her Victoria’s Secret underwear anyway, thinking that she might still enjoy looking sexy. Annabeth had thanked him profusely, but had cuffed him on the neck right after, saying that she’d never really found panties comfortable.

That was another thing that had come up since the war with Gaea. Annabeth’s penetration-aversion. At first she hadn’t really felt confident talking about it, but when Percy had tried to make a move on her, well, things had to change right then.

In his younger years, Percy had never really even _thought_ about having sex with Annabeth. He hadn’t really considered having sex _at all_. As he got older, though, his sex drive gradually started to ramp up. At first it had just been popping a boner whenever Annabeth was looking particularly attractive. Now it was getting a full hard-on whenever he merely thought of boobs, or, sometimes, in passing, a shapely male rump.

Percy was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that his morning wood was rubbing against Annabeth’s thigh. He didn’t notice that her hand was slowly travelling down his side. “Percy,” she said, flicking Percy’s nose with her index finger as she reached down with her other hand and cupped Percy’s balls.

Feeling Annabeth’s hand on his package elicited a groan from Percy. “When was the last time you actually got off?” said Annabeth, narrowing her eyes at him.

Percy, for some bizarre reason, was incredibly hard. Normally his morning wood went down pretty fast, but today was different. He was so horny and sensitive that he was surprised that Annabeth merely touching him had not made him blow his load just yet.

Percy pondered Annabeth’s question. It was a legitimate one, as far as he was concerned. With construction on Theopolis finally nearing completion, and concerned naiads pelting him with complaints, both he and Annabeth had been really busy around the place. He had not had the time to visit Connor, nor had Annabeth had the time to help him out with his libido problem. “I…” Percy trailed off, unable to help the blush that crept into his cheeks. “I don’t really remember,” he said.

Annabeth frowned. She and Percy had talked about this at length multiple times. “Seaweed brain,” she said, reproachfully. She tapped Percy’s nose with her finger a second time. “You know that you _have_ to get off _sometime_ ,” she said. “We’ve talked about this.”

Percy sighed and brought his hand up to stroke the side of Annabeth’s face. He pointedly tried to ignore the feeling of Annabeth’s hand on his groin. “I know, wise girl,” he said. He nuzzled Annabeth. “I just haven’t had the time to visit Connor.”

Annabeth pulled away from Percy and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve never been this open about it before,” she said. “You’ve always kind of mumbled Connor’s name.” Annabeth wasn’t concerned. If anything, she was impressed, and proud. Maybe Percy had made a breakthrough. Percy had always had trouble with admitting to the fact that he wasn’t one hundred percent heterosexual ever since she’d introduced him to Connor.

“Why don’t you masturbate?” said Annabeth, genuinely puzzled. She traced a finger along the side of Percy’s cock. She hadn’t really noticed how tense Percy had been over the last couple of weeks. She hadn’t really had much time to spend with him to begin with.

Percy groaned at the touch. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. It simply felt too good. It wasn’t like Annabeth hadn’t done this before, teasing him through the sheer fabric of his boxers, but this was the first time it felt so intense. Percy’s lips parted in a low groan, and Annabeth smirked, fully in control of what she was doing. There was no penetration involved, so she was okay with it. “It’s a quick and easy way to get off,” she teased.

Percy whimpered when Annabeth took her finger away and replaced it with her palm. She started rubbing him through his boxers. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to help you out,” she said, deciding that this way was as good as any to apologize for being too busy to spend time with Percy, “but you know you don’t always need Connor when you want to get your rocks off, seaweed brain,” she said.

“Yeah, well,” said Percy, barely able to maintain coherent thought. Never let it be said that handjobs aren’t good, because after not getting off for three weeks straight, Annabeth’s palm was as good as getting pounded. “I-I know, b-but” Percy groaned and whimpered at the same time. Annabeth had to hold back a giggle. “It just doesn’t feel the same when I’m doing it.”

Annabeth kissed Percy on the cheek and looked into his sea-green eyes. There were some times when she forgot just how innocent Percy could be. Ever since Tartarus, she’d seen this darkness in him that he was struggling to keep in. She hadn’t realized that even Percy Jackson, great hero of Olympus could still be a little iffy when it came to sex. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around enough, Percy,” she said.

Annabeth gave Percy’s cock a squeeze, entirely not expecting Percy’s pupils to dilate as he groaned and shuddered and came in his boxers. “That was fast, even for you, Percy,” she teased. Perhaps she’d underestimated how pent up Percy was.

Truth be told, even if Annabeth didn’t like the idea of penetration _at all_ , she still liked non-penetrative forms of sex. She still liked masturbating. Whenever she had time, at least, which wasn’t very often in the last couple of weeks.

Annabeth remembered, quite distinctly, with a mixture of amusement and disgust, the time that her _mother_ of all people had shown her this quaint little invention that apparently was what the virgin goddesses used to get off. Athena liked to call it the “Virgin Goddess’ Husband.”

Athena had reassured Annabeth that Aphrodite approved of it. Begrudgingly. Aphrodite’s words were in the operation manual. “ _Use only as a last resort, if there are no warm, living(or dead, if that’s your thing) bodies around to use as a substitute_.”

Annabeth had not wanted to hear that. Needless to say, the moment that she tried it out, she couldn’t get enough of it. It was sexual pleasure without penetration and it was awesome. There was, in fact, a secret room in the Athena cabin, built with the help of the female Hephaestus kids, solely for Athena kids who shared Annabeth’s predilection against penetrative sex.

Truth be told, Annabeth didn’t understand why Percy was so averse to masturbating. She supposed it had to do with how he didn’t really like getting off without someone else to share the experience with, anyway, be it mutual masturbation or otherwise. She decided she was going to ask him about it.

When Percy stopped shivering from the orgasmic high he’d just experienced, without any direct contact with his cock nonetheless, he reached down into his boxers and adjusted himself. His fingers came out sticky with cum, which, boldly, he licked off while staring at Annabeth with wide, seemingly-offended sea-green eyes.

“It’s fine Percy, I didn’t think you were so pent up,” said Annabeth. She shrugged. “I…” She couldn’t help but blush. “I was wondering why you always need someone to be there for you when you want to get off, Percy.”

Percy blinked and felt the heat rush to his face. He didn’t really want to talk about this, but he supposed that Annabeth had a right to know. “Because sex has to mean something, wise girl,” he said.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand,” she said, stroking the side of Percy’s face. She was starting to get wet down there. Truth be told, until Percy had done it right in front of her then, she hadn’t thought she would find Percy eating his own cum would be arousing. It was. More than she had imagined. “Sex… Getting off doesn’t have to mean anything, Percy.”

“Yes it does, Annabeth!” said the son of Poseidon, gently gripping Annabeth’s wrist. He kissed her hand. “If sex doesn’t mean anything, then it’s just like Zeus. Sleeping around just because he liked how people looked. People would get hurt. Children would grow up without a dad, or with really bad stepdads.”

Annabeth and Percy looked into each others’ eyes. They both knew and understood the words that Percy had left unsaid. “ _I mean, look at me_ ,” he would have said if he had been braver. Only he wasn’t.

“Yeah,” said Annabeth, swatting Percy gently on the cheek. “But jerking off won’t get anyone pregnant. Jerking off won’t make anyone grow up without a dad or with a really bad stepdad. It’s just a way to get your rocks off, and it’s healthy.”

“Well,” said Percy, struggling to find a reason. Honestly, he just didn’t really like masturbating. He supposed it always felt dirty. “What’s the point of getting off if you’re not having sex anyway?” he said, after a little while.

Annabeth looked at Percy with scepticism. “Really?” she said. Percy blushed. “The point of getting off when you’re not having sex is just relieving some of the tension.”

Annabeth thought about what Percy had said so far and came to a conclusion. She _had_ forgotten to tell him that she masturbated, too. She supposed she had no one to blame but herself for that.

Annabeth looked at Percy. “Okay, I get why you don’t want to just sleep around,” she said, “But let me guess. You think I don’t masturbate and if I don’t masturbate, it makes you feel bad about masturbating yourself because you don’t think I’m getting off. Is that it?”

Percy turned scarlet. From his neck up to the very tips of his ears. He had no idea how Annabeth could figure him out so easily. “Y-yes,” he said, frowning. “How did you know?”

“I’m a daughter of Athena,” said Annabeth with a knowing smirk. “I can put two and two together. That, and I _know_ you, seaweed brain.”

“Ugh,” said Percy, in mock-disgust. “There are times when I regret ever giving you that nickname, wise girl. You always live up to it.”

“Well, I love having given you that nickname, seaweed brain,” said Annabeth, with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “You always end up living up to yours too.”

Percy nodded for a moment, until it dawned on him what Annabeth had just said. He narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend. She was trying her best to hold in laughter. “Hey!” he said, “That’s not nice!”

They rolled over on the bed until Percy ended up straddling Annabeth’s hips. They were both laughing. Percy leaned down and kissed Annabeth and they stayed that way for a little while, until they had to pull apart for air. “Hey,” said Annabeth, stroking Percy’s sides, “All this sex talk makes me wonder, do you remember when we first started talking about our little arrangement?”

Percy looked at Annabeth, then looked away just as quickly. He laughed nervously. “Yeah,” he said, eyes darting every which way. “I do.” He looked at Annabeth, who looked so amused, that he couldn’t help but wipe the smirk off her face by pressing his lips insistently to hers.

Annabeth was all too happy to oblige Percy. When they broke apart, Percy was blushing furiously. “I was prepared to just give up sex, you know,” he said. He made his best impression of Annabeth that made her swat his thigh. “But you had to be stubborn and insist that I have sex because sex is _healthy_. Whatever that means.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Oh you know what that means, seaweed brain,” she said. She couldn’t help but smile. “And it _is_ healthy. Did you ever even try to ask another girl?” she said. She’d always wondered. Percy shook his head.

“So, when after three weeks passed, and you told me you didn’t want to mess around with girls because it would feel like cheating, you hadn’t actually tried it out?” she said. Percy shook his head again. “Gods. I feel bad suggesting that you try it out with a guy, now,” she said.

Percy shook his head and rolled off of Annabeth. Mostly. Half his body was still on top of hers. He toyed with a lock of her hair. “To be honest,” he said, looking into Annabeth’s eyes, “I was okay with it.”

Annabeth again raised an eyebrow. Percy had never really been this open about the matter of sex before. It had always seemed like a taboo topic between them, ever since Annabeth had told him that penetration made her feel queasy. “I was just a bit ashamed to admit it because, well, you know… What would they think of me? A big hero. Dating a guy!”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and swatted Percy on the shoulder. “Seaweed brain,” she said, repeating what she’d told him the night after Percy’s first tryst with another guy. “Achilles loved Patroclus. He was gay. Or at least bi. The myths aren’t really clear. They are clear on the fact that he was our greatest hero, though.”

“Don’t forget,” said Annabeth, “Apollo fell in love with Hyacinthus. A lot of the gods had male lovers. I mean, for goodness’ sake, Zeus has Ganymede.” Annabeth tried to avoid the pitfall of even _mentioning_ Poseidon, because she was pretty sure that would be an awkward subject to breach.

“Did dad have any?” said Percy in a surprisingly thoughtful tone of voice.

Annabeth reddened. Just the topic she had wanted to avoid. “Yes,” she said, “He did have male lovers, too.”

“Right,” said Percy, seemingly deep in thought. It was difficult to imagine his old man with another dude, but he supposed it was fine. “It’s not so bad then, I guess. I kinda forget I’m Greek sometimes,” he said, “But I still didn’t want to admit to it!”

“Right,” said Annabeth, rubbing her nose against Percy’s and laughing. “As if I couldn’t tell you were okay with it,” she said.

“Well, you’re always right, wise girl,” said Percy with a pout, “It’s not very fair.” He stuck his tongue out at Annabeth. “Besides! That didn’t mean that you could go ahead and toss a pack of condoms and a tube of lube at my head while dragging Connor Stoll, half-naked and _very_ confused to my cabin!”

“Right,” said Annabeth, with a knowing smirk. “Like you didn’t enjoy it,” she said, propping herself up on an elbow and looking at Percy.

Annabeth had heard the noises that Percy made that night, since she was staying around to make sure that the two boys didn’t kill each other. Truth be told, those sounds had aroused her so much she’d gone to the secret room in the Athena cabin.

That was the night that Annabeth realized that as much as she was against the idea of being penetrated, she didn’t find it particularly disturbing when others were getting penetrated. “You never told me about it, though,” she said, looking into Percy’s eyes, “How was your first time with Connor?”

Percy’s blush deepened. He could feel the heat on his ears. He remembered the way that Connor had gotten him to relax into whatever it was that they had done that night. He remembered the feeling of Connor’s hands on his skin. Connor’s fingers, and eventually _cock_ inside of him.

Truthfully, some nights, Percy even still felt a ghost of the warmth of Connor’s body against his. He had never gotten over how good it had felt to be with Connor. In fact, he craved it. He craved it so much that it disturbed him. It was for that reason that he tried to stay away from Connor, convincing himself that he was too busy to leave a discreet Iris Message for the son of Hermes.

“It was pretty fucking good,” said Percy. He couldn’t believe he was going to tell Annabeth this, but he decided there wasn’t a better time to get the big secret off of his chest. “I bottomed for Connor,” he said. That was what Connor had called it. “I’ve only ever bottomed for Connor,” he blurted out, clapping his hands over his mouth as soon as the words had left him.

“Is that what you’ve been afraid of telling me?” said Annabeth with a laugh. It wasn’t derisive, but Percy couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Annabeth noticed this. She touched his cheek and said “Oh seaweed brain.” She shook her head. “It’s not like he pulled me aside the next day and thanked me for hooking him up with your hot ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Last chapter in a little while, I think? There might be a chapter next week but I can't promise that. Finals coming up, remember? I'm actually in the middle of studying for my Philosophy final as I'm typing this up, so... yeah, revision is in full swing. :3.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. I definitely enjoyed writing it, despite the hetero sexual situation that happened toward the middle there. :3. I just love exploring the character of Percy, especially since I headcanon him as this severely sexually submissive character who just wants to be able to let go and let someone else take charge in the bedroom because so many people look to him to make hard decisions otherwise.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? How about the situation between Will and Nico? The sheer _hatred_ that Will all of a sudden seems to have against Wyn. How did you like what happened between Annabeth and Percy? :3. Also. What do you think of Percy/Connor?  >:].
> 
> As always. Leave me kudos if you liked the story! And leave me a comment if you like me. :3. Also. Wish me luck for this Philosophy exam! I have to write two essays in the span of two hours. *shakes head* If you have any questions or fic requests, my ask box is open at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)!


	29. Caustic Light

Percy’s eyes widened, and he felt like his face was going to burst into flame any second. “H-he did what?!” he shouted, embarrassed more than he was outraged at the idea that Connor had told Annabeth anything about what had happened that night.

Truth be told, as honest as he was being then, Percy didn’t think that _that_ was the kind of thing that his girlfriend should know about. He looked at Annabeth and asked, in a small voice, “He didn’t really tell you that, did he?” he said, searching Annabeth’s eyes for any indication that she was just pulling his leg. All Percy managed to find was a mischievous twinkle that he was pretty sure she had gotten from him.

“Well,” said the daughter of Athena, winding her arms around Percy and pulling him close. “Even if he didn’t, it doesn’t matter, does it?” she said. Percy shivered as he felt Annabeth’s slender and deft fingers travel down the length of his back and dip into the back of his boxers.

Percy _squeaked_ when Annabeth cupped his bottom. Annabeth, more or less, was delighted at the sound she had managed to elicit from Percy. She would never have thought that Percy would be a power-bottom, for lack of a better term, but she supposed it made perfect sense.

After all, Percy was one of the biggest heroes of the past couple of years. He had a lot of stress and responsibility riding on his shoulders. Especially after Chiron had put him in charge of the Naiad and Nereid relocation projects as well as overseeing the retrieval of unclaimed demigods. Annabeth supposed that Percy just wanted to let someone else take the reins sometimes. “I don’t care whatever you do,” she said, “Just as long as you’re satisfied. Nothing else matters.”

“Actually, Annabeth,” said Percy, thankful that Annabeth removed her hands from his butt, because he was already starting to get hard again. He looked into his girlfriend’s grey eyes. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Annabeth knew it was irrational, but she felt a pang of fear in her chest. She wondered if Percy was breaking up with her for Connor, but then she told herself that she was being paranoid. Nevertheless, Percy had seen Annabeth frown, and was concerned. He kept talking. Annabeth needed to hear what he had to say. “I’ve been feeling guilty about having sex and enjoying myself while you don’t really have anything of the sort,” he said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Percy could be the most dense asshole in the world at times, but a lot of the time, he was one of the most endearing dorks that she had ever known.

Percy’s attempts at considering Annabeth’s feelings were noble, yes, but often, Percy failed to look at the big picture. She didn’t think that Percy fully understood the penetration-averse concept at all just yet. “It’s okay, Percy,” she said, laughing lightly.

If only Percy knew about the machine that Annabeth liked using so much. Unfortunately, she didn’t think he was _quite_ ready for that. At least not yet. “I don’t really want to have sex with _anyone_ ,” she said, “not even you, seaweed brain.” Least of all someone she barely even knew. “I’ll be alright,” she said, tapping Percy’s cheek, “Don’t worry about me.”

“I just have to wonder, though,” said Annabeth, looking into Percy’s sea-green eyes as though searching for the answer, or at least clues to the answer, there. “What’s with all the honesty about sex and sexuality today?” she said.

“Well,” said Percy, looking at Annabeth with eyes that seemed rather uncertain. “Ever since that Jason kissing Nico fiasco yesterday…”

Annabeth wanted to slap herself. She had totally forgotten that that had happened just the previous day. She didn’t understand what was going on between Nico, Will and Jason, but she had her suspicions. Still, she should have realized that _that_ was what was driving Percy into being open.

Percy looked very determined. “I mean,” he said, “If my bro Jason could do it…” Annabeth couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. She had to wonder what had inspired Percy to become one of the dudebros, but she wasn’t about to ask. “If Jason could be honest about who he likes and who he wants, why can’t I be honest about sex?”

Percy whispered in Annabeth’s ear, “At least to you. I don’t think I’m ready for everyone else yet.”

Annabeth laughed and swatted Percy’s shoulder. She wasn’t convinced that that was the whole story. “Okay, okay,” said Percy, fending off Annabeth’s swatting while trying to stifle laughter. “I mean, for the longest time, I thought I was the only one in the camp having to deal with something like this. Everyone seemed so secure in their sexualities, I mean, even you were! It was difficult to not feel like I had to be sure of mine, too.”

“Ow!” said Percy, when Annabeth accidentally jabbed him in the rib. “When I saw that Jason was kind of in the same boat, I felt like I kind of had to face this, you know?”

“Why?” said Annabeth, the smirk on her face a knowing one. She was pretty sure where this explanation of Percy’s was headed. She knew her boyfriend quite well, after all. “Is it so that you can figure out your sexuality before Jason does?” she said.

“Well,” said Percy, trying to avoid Annabeth’s look. “Yeah,” he admitted, begrudgingly. “But not just that, it’s because I just want to stop being so confused all the time, you know?” Percy propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Annabeth. “I was wondering, too, what if the reason Nico had a crush on me was because I kind of sent him the wrong signals?”

Annabeth’s expression softened and she patted Percy’s shoulder. “Oh Percy,” she said, voice quiet. “It wasn’t your fault he ran away for three years. If anything it was mine because I had to come up with that stupid plan to get him and Will together.”

“It wasn’t a stupid plan, wise girl!” said Percy, feeling somewhat affronted that Annabeth would think so lowly about herself. “I just think that if maybe, I didn’t hurt Nico so much he wouldn’t have all these problems…”

“I think it would have happened anyway, Percy,” said Annabeth. “Nico’s one of our greatest heroes, too. They don’t know him as well as they do you, but I think he likes it that way.” Annabeth couldn’t help the tender smile that curled her lips. “What’s important is that he’s back.”

“Yeah,” said Percy, laying back down on the bed and staring at the ceiling. “Unfortunate that he’s not the only one that’s back, isn’t it?” he said. He felt Annabeth tense up beside him. “Why did Arachne have to come back? What do you think that was all about yesterday?”

Percy winced when Annabeth’s nails dug into his arm. She’d grabbed him, for some reason, but the humour slipped from his grasp as soon as he saw that she was pale and wide-eyed. “Holy shit!” said Annabeth, surprising Percy with the unexpected profanity. “We forgot!” she said. She shook Percy. “We completely forgot!”

Percy narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what Annabeth was going on about. He couldn’t quite remember. The last night was somewhat fuzzy. “We forgot to tell Chiron about Arachne!” said Annabeth, sounding exasperated.

“Oh fuck,” breathed Percy, eyes widening like Annabeth’s had. Percy nearly fell out of bed when Annabeth crawled over him to get dressed. Percy bolted out of bed and tried to do the same.

Annabeth had better luck than Percy did. Percy was halfway to the door, dressed only in his boxers, which were still wet with his cum, when Annabeth yelled “Stop!”

Percy froze mid-stride. He craned his neck and looked at Annabeth, who was busy laughing her head off. “Seaweed brain!” she said. “Gods that nickname fits you so well sometimes,” she muttered under her breath. “Pants!”

Percy opened his mouth to protest, but he looked down anyway. He blushed when he realized he wasn’t dressed anywhere near appropriately enough. He had almost run out into the green only in his boxers. “Don’t forget a shirt!” said Annabeth as she ran past him and wrenched the door open.

Percy stood there stunned for a moment, before the sound of the door slamming returned him to his senses. “Hey!” he shouted, nearly tripping when he pulled his pants up his legs. “Wait for me!” he said, running out the door and nearly bumping into a group of Aphrodite kids who instantly started giggling.

Percy looked down and realized that his shirt was not only on backward, it was also inside-out. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath. He stripped off the shirt to a chorus of appreciative whistles from the Aphrodite kids, male and female alike. He pointedly ignored them and focused on getting dressed properly and not tripping at the same time.

\----------

To get on a boat to return to camp was a simple matter, as far as Will was concerned. Actually riding that boat, on the other hand, was another thing entirely.

Although Will wasn’t vulnerable to motion sickness—thank the gods—the past couple of days had not been too kind to him. That in itself was a rather flagrant understatement. For one, he was still tired from all the energy he’d spent the previous day. The fact that he’d very nearly burned his powers out and reduced everyone nearby to cinders.

Then, there was the little matter that Will was _very_ distressed because of what was going on between him and Nico. Despite all his ability to keep a level head on the high seas, Will was beginning to get a little green from all the thinking.

It certainly did not help matters that Theopolis existed in its own… bubble. Its own world. Will didn’t entirely remember what Athena had rambled on about for two hours when she’d made the presentation about Theopolis when they’d first started the project; he’d been falling asleep. As far as he could recall, however, Athena had said something along the lines of Theopolis occupying its own metaphysical realm, like Olympus.

This simple fact made the trip to and from camp was more distressing than normal boat rides on the sound. The sea that surrounded Theopolis was not the same as that which bordered Camp Half-Blood. They were two _very_ distinct bodies of water, and things got pretty harrowing when New York was having inclement weather because the currents at the border were often _very_ different.

There was the very real threat of capsizing if one crossed the border at an inopportune time or without proper planning.

Nevertheless, Will didn’t have much of a choice that day. He _had_ to visit Piper. He needed advice, after all. He had done everything that he thought he could do, that he knew to do, but he still felt more troubled about his relationship with Nico than before.

Will supposed that after three years, being _with_ Nico again, and especially since they’d become official boyfriends, had put him in a rather idealistic state of mind. Now, however, Will was beginning to see the truth; his relationship with Nico was a tenuous one at best. There was no reason for it to be stable and happy, especially after three years of having no contact whatsoever.

Will shook his head and focused on the ordeal that was ahead. At the helm of the speedboat that was carrying Will back to camp was one of the Athena kids. The boy sitting in the captain’s seat was one that Will did not know. He didn’t know the kid’s face, much less the kid’s name.

It was an eye-opening moment. Three years of moping had made Will blind to most things that happened around him. The truth that the years had passed was beginning to hit him. He had new brothers and sisters at the cabin. There were many more new campers around. He had _outgrown_ Camp Half-Blood.

Some part of Will had known that fact ever since the previous night, when Hades had graciously given him and Nico their own place, but the reality of it was only just dawning on him.

Will shook his head again and focused on the Athena kid at the prow of the boat. Athena’s children, after most of the planning of the city was done, had been relegated into paid positions as ferrymen between camp and Theopolis until the bridge was finished. When the bridge was done, it would be the only way into and out of the city.

As much Will’s thoughts of Nico wormed their way back into the front of Will’s consciousness, he was unable to concentrate on them. Today was a particularly harrowing day to be going back to Camp Half-Blood by boat, but Will had insisted, rather forcefully. He had not wanted to spend all day at Theopolis, waiting for the bridge to be finished.

As the speedboat neared the border, Will finally saw why the Athena kid had been understandably irate at his stubborn refusal to go anywhere until he was taken back to camp.

The waves were crashing against the otherwise-invisible sphere of divine energy that protected the city. Green energy crackled at the edge of Theopolis’ purview. Steam hissed from the water, only to dissipate about a foot above the surface.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” said the Athena kid, leaning over to look at Will. The Athena kid turned back to the wheel as Will scowled at him. “I should turn back around,” said the kid, “Whatever it is you want to do isn’t worth _me_ getting ripped apart at the border.”

Will could only barely hear it over the sound of the waves being turned to steam in the distance, but the Athena kid mumbled under his breath, “I should really fucking practise being more silver-tongued.”

Nevertheless, Will was surprised by the way that he felt himself lurch forward from where he sat. When the fog that had descended upon his thoughts cleared, he grimaced. He had gripped the Athena kid’s seat so hard that there was a very deep imprint on the damn thing. “We are going to Camp Half-Blood,” he said, leaving very little room for questions with his tone, “Border be damned.”

The Athena kid looked at Will as though he had gone insane. Truth be told, Will was pretty sure that he’d gone a little bit insane the moment he laid eyes upon a certain son of Hades. He didn’t blame the Athena kid. No one in their right mind would want to persevere despite the obvious danger of the barrier ahead.

Will fished for a drachma in his pocket. He raised it above his head and flung the coin into the water with as much force as he could. It was one of those rare occasions that the penchant he was supposed to have for projectiles came to life.

The coin sank into the sea edge-first, and it didn’t seem like it slowed one bit. Will couldn’t help but feel rather proud of himself. He remembered the time that Percy had strung a Sand Dollar around his neck, and though he suspected that Poseidon would have preferred that kind of payment, he was beyond caring.

In fact, Will was so frustrated with what was going on that he sort-of hoped that the drachma would hit the top of Poseidon’s head, somehow, and get the god’s attention.

Will wasn’t so sure that his gamble would work, but when in a spray of water, a deity at least immediately _related_ to Poseidon appeared in front of the boat scratching his head, Will couldn’t help but grin inwardly. It was Triton, and the minor god did not look entirely too pleased.

“Who dares throw a drachma at my head?” demanded Triton in Ancient Greek, his voice booming across the water. The Athena kid cowered from the god where he sat, though Will had to admit that it was pretty impressive how the kid managed to keep the craft stable despite the fear. “I shall bring to bear the wrath of the seas upon them!”

Will rolled his eyes, and found that he was rather surprised at himself. Prior to yesterday, he would have never done such a thing. Nico standing up to Poseidon had inspired him, however.

Besides, Will had the rod that Nico had given to him in his satchel, which was hanging by his hip. It was more of a messenger bag, though he didn’t really care what it was called. It was a fucking bag. Regardless, Will was pretty sure that the rod had _some_ sort of protective magic about it since it was a gift from Nico, and if there was anything he knew about Nico, it was that Nico would protect the people he loved no matter the cost.

“Just,” said Will, exasperation clear in his voice as he gestured in the direction of the crackling energy barrier in front of him. “Just open a path for the boat to pass through and we won’t bother you anymore,” he said.

Triton levelled his trident menacingly at Will. Though the son of Apollo felt somewhat nervous at having the weapon pointed at him, just wrapping his fingers around the slender rod in his bag helped a lot to allay his fears.

“Why would I do that?” said Triton, words slipping away from the formality they’d had. “Father made it clear that the barrier was going up and _staying up_.”

Triton bared his teeth at Will, as though a challenge for Will to defy Poseidon’s authority. “No one is to leave the city until the bridge is finished,” said Triton with a smug finality that Will had come to expect of the gods that did not view demigods favourably. “So what have you to say for yourself, demigod?” said Triton.

“Yeah,” said Will, beginning to feel rather irritated at the condescending way that Triton was speaking. Although he distinctly remembered a period of time when he would have never thought about acting on that anger of his, Triton had caught him at a _very_ bad time, in a very, _very_ bad mood.

“You see, my boyfriend—” Will paused. He had to wonder if he could even still use that term. He filed away the question as something to ask Piper. He looked at Triton and returned the god’s steely glare. “—he put your dad in his place last night.” Will bared his teeth in response to the challenge that Triton had issued earlier.

Triton’s eyes narrowed. There was nothing particularly special about this scrawny son of Apollo in front of him. He found it difficult to believe that this demigod’s boyfriend had managed to teach Poseidon a lesson, so to speak.

Will rolled his eyes at the incredulous look that Triton shot him. Will had hoped things would not come to this, but he had no choice. He had to get back to camp.

Will opened the satchel and pulled the rod out. Ivory and Imperial Gold hummed in his hand as it came into contact with the fresh sea breeze. He willed the damn thing to come to life. He felt a prick against his finger and moments later, he felt warmth move down his arm as some of his light was sucked into the weapon.

Will held the rod firmly in his grip as it began to grow into its full length. It was a quite dangerous weapon, as he’d discovered. He had difficulty believing the damn thing was non-lethal.

As soon as the staff was at its full length in Will’s hands, Triton recoiled, twin merman tails pulling him away from the boat. The power that emanated from the staff was immense, but it was at the same time, foreign.

The power came from gods from elsewhere, and that was what made the power so despicable. So occupied was Triton with the sickening power that the weapon possessed that he didn’t realize that he still had his trident extended, and that Will was moving in its direction.

With a flick of his wrist, Will tapped the tip of Triton’s trident with the tip of the staff. The air was filled with a pleasant ringing, like a large bell. Instantly, sparks flew from the trident and Triton dropped his weapon.

Triton’s hands flew to his temples to try and massage away the headache that had suddenly flared behind his eyes. “Fine, fine,” said Triton through gritted teeth. He glared at Will with unadulterated dislike.

From the stories that Will had overheard Percy telling Jason, however, Will didn’t have to worry too much. There weren’t very many people that Triton liked to begin with. “You may pass, but I’m informing father of your breach of his command,” said Triton, stiffly.

Will’s eyes darted to the barrier as Triton blew on his conch shell. The green energy dissipated in an area like an arch, just wide enough and tall enough for the speedboat to pass without too much danger. “Yeah, sure,” said Will, “Tell on me to your dad. That’s _so_ going to help.”

Triton scowled at Will but said nothing more.

Will shook the Athena kid’s chair to wake the poor kid from his catanonia at what had just taken place in front of him. Almost a little _too_ hastily, the speedboat shot through the water and out into the Sound, which was decidedly more peaceful, for once, than the Theopolis side of the border.

The Athena kid leaned over to one side of the chair to look back at Will. They stared at each other for a long time. “You’re Solace, right?” said the kid. Will nodded. “I thought you were supposed to be kind and all full of sunshine. Bit disappointing, really.”

“Yeah, well,” said Will, surprised at the venom in his own voice. The frustration was finally beginning to get to him. After three years of being apart, he and Nico had finally managed to come together in the way that Will had wanted them to for three years, and now, everything was going to shit.

Nico was doubting the credibility of their relationship because of that little shit Wyn.

Will was angry beyond belief. He glared at the back of the Athena kid’s chair. This fucker in the boat with him wasn’t helping. What did he mean by disappointing? Will just wanted to punch a wall.

Much to Will’s surprise the back of the chair began to melt. He blinked, and the material stopped melting. Shaken from his anger by the strange sight, Will took a deep breath. “Get used to it, kid,” he said, “Things change. People change. The only fucking thing that doesn’t change is the fact that things keep changing.”

\----------

Jason had already spent much of the day just lying on his bed in the Zeus cabin. Piper had dropped by earlier, but she’d had something to do, and she’d left.

Right now, Jason was staring up at the stormy ceiling, genuinely surprised at how the roiling turmoil in the clouds above imparted a strange sense of calm to him. Granted, he was more than a little intimidated by his father’s statue, that loomed over the entire damn cabin, but this was the only place he could stay where he was fairly certain that no one would come to bother him.

The statue was one of the reasons Jason often found somewhere else to sleep. Up until yesterday, the Hades cabin had been his place to hide from everyone except Will Solace. Now the Hades cabin was empty, and from what Piper had said, a lot of the younger campers were trying to look into the cabin, interest sparked by Nico’s return.

Truth be told, Jason wasn’t feeling too well, either. He felt sick to his stomach, and he hadn’t the faintest idea why. The blank stretch of time in his memory from the previous night was bugging him. There was clearly something that had happened then that left him with this illness. Today was one of those days that he couldn’t be bothered to do anything.

Nevertheless, despite his malaise, there was a part of Jason that felt rather happy. Nico was back in camp, and from the looks of it, he and Will were doing pretty well.

Jason couldn’t help the small smile that slipped into his lips at the thought of Will being happy. He pressed his fingers to his lips, reminiscing about the tingling he’d felt when Nico had kissed him and told him that maybe someday in the future, they would let him join their relationship.

Jason knew that it wasn’t guaranteed, but it was hope. He had never expected to fall in love with Will, but he had, and he supposed that some part of him had always loved Nico, too. The fact that they had said that _maybe_ he could be a part of that relationship was more important to Jason more than anything else.

Needless to say, since he expected to be alone for most of the day, Jason flinched when someone knocked on the cabin door. The sound was both urgent and shy. He had to wonder who it was. He had not expected anyone to come to him. He was popular in camp, yes, especially after the war with Gaea, but after everything that had happened since then, people were generally afraid of the Zeus cabin, and for good reason.

“Come in,” said Jason. His words came warily. He had to wonder if it was Piper. Nevertheless, he didn’t even attempt to get up and open the door. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. That was all.

Sitting up, Jason was surprised by how heavy his body felt. “The door’s open,” he said.

Cecil was the last person that Jason had expected to walk through that door. In truth, Jason had been partly expecting one of the minor gods to show up. They were always asking about their long-due shrines.

Jason, in truth, was at the end of his patience. The minor gods were demanding, and while they wanted results, they offered very little to no help. There was only so much that Jason could do. He was just one man. He didn’t have a dedicated team to help with his ‘pontificating’ as Percy liked to call it.

Jason had petitioned the legion and the camp for help, but the Senate was still going through the motions of approving the damn thing, while the camp was undermanned because of all the construction going on with Theopolis. Jason could only hope that since Theopolis’ construction was wrapping up, he would finally get a team to help with the shrines and merchandise.

“Hey, Cecil,” said Jason, raising an eyebrow at the son of Hermes as he walked into the cabin. “What can I do for you?” he said, watching warily as Cecil closed the door behind him.

Cecil looked up at the statue of Zeus. He rubbed his hands up and down his shirt in discomfort. Jason frowned when he noticed that there was blood on Cecil’s fingers.

Jason was concerned. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he was in for. “Look,” said Cecil, eyes darting in Jason’s direction before returning to the statue of Zeus. The son of Hermes laughed nervously. “Fucking hell, how do you sleep with this thing here?” said Cecil. He looked at Jason again. “Fuck it. I don’t care. Look, I don’t know what the fuck happened between you and Will these past three years.”

Jason tensed where he sat on his bed. His blood ran cold in his veins. He was about to say something about Cecil staying out of things that didn’t concern him, but before he could say anything, Cecil was already sitting on the floor, leaning against the nearest wall.

Cecil was in tears. “He’s my best friend, Grace,” said the son of Hermes, voice filled with pain. “Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this right now.” Cecil was evidently distressed. Jason was beginning to feel anxious. Had something happened to Will?

Jason rose from his bed. His protective instincts flared. They made the heaviness of his body seem irrelevant. “Before you say anything,” said Cecil, looking up and glaring at Jason with tear-filled eyes. “You have no fucking clue how fucking _hard_ it’s been watching him slowly killing himself for the last three years.”

Cecil’s eyes were filled with pain and resentment. “I don’t know if you think that you’ve helped him these last three years,” said Cecil, with a venom that surprised even Jason. He supposed that this was something that Cecil had been holding in for a very long time.

“If you really do think that you’ve helped him,” said Cecil, “Then you’re a fucking idiot. I don’t think you’ve done a very good job. The least you could have done for stealing my best friend was help him out. Much good that did him.”

The words hurt Jason. They made him angry, but more than that, they resonated within him. Cecil had spoken the uncomfortable truth of the past three years that he’d been struggling with for the longest time. He hadn’t been able to help Will as much as he wanted to. He hadn’t been able to help Will in too many ways that mattered.

“It’s almost like Will has lost his light,” said Cecil. His voice was soft, and it cracked at the end of his sentence. He sobbed. It was something that he’d always thought, but saying that the unique light that had been at the core of the Will that he’d known had been extinguished made the thought real.

Cecil squeezed his eyes closed, and tears ran down the sides of his face. It was painful. He didn’t want it to be true. He wanted Will to still have the light. As much as he tried, he couldn’t get the image of Will’s dull, sunken, tired eyes out of his head.

“You have no idea what I’ve had to go through these past three years. My dad is missing. Then my little circle of friends just _fell apart_.” Jason’s heart beat in his chest. His blood roared in his ears. He had a bad feeling about what Cecil was going to say next. “And all of that because of that fucker di Angelo.”

Cecil tossed a coin at the opposite wall. For a moment, everything was quiet save for the ringing of the coin as it fell.

Jason felt a surge of anger, and thunder shook the entire cabin. How dare Cecil say anything bad about Nico, _blame_ Nico for what had happened to Will. “Don’t you fucking dare say that Nico did all of this. And you have no idea what I’ve done for Will!” he hissed.

“You have no idea what he’s been going through,” said Jason, surprised at the acid in his own voice. “Guess what, Cecil? If you really were his best friend, then you _should_ have known what was happening with Will. You should have been there to help!”

“Where were you for the last three years,” said Jason, blinking when he realized he was now standing right in front of Cecil. Well, standing after a fashion. He was levitating. “Where were you when he needed you? Did he ever go to you? Did you ever _let_ him go to you?”

“I’m the only reason that Will is still alive and you don’t have a fucking clue how much it hurt me to see Will so depressed like that!” Jason was growling. “And you’re right. His light is dead. But now that Nico’s back, his light is back, too.”

Cecil scoffed. He spat at Jason’s feet. “Don’t you think I tried to be there for him? I tried to get him to talk to me, but it would have been better if I had just wasted my time trying to get a rock to talk to me.”

“And his light is back?” Cecil barked a bitter, artificial laugh. “Tell that to the campers he just sent to the infirmary.” Cecil shook his head and rose to his feet. “You know what? Fuck it. Just go. He needs you.”

“Will has always had a temper under that friendly appearance of his. Just like his dad. It’s actually quite vicious.” Cecil shook his head again. “I haven’t seen Will this angry in forever. Probably because it was almost like he was the living dead these past couple of years.”

Cecil looked at Jason and glared at him. “Whatever,” he said, “I don’t know where the fuck di Angelo is, but there’s no one else that could make Will that angry. The only reason I’m here is because I trust you more than Nico. I don’t think they’re good for each other.”

“If you asked me, I would have been happier if he’d fallen in love with you instead of that _son of Hades_.” Cecil spat the words as though they were a curse. Jason was shaking with anger. He was so angry that he wanted to punch Cecil in the face, but he knew that Will wouldn’t like that. “You’d better be quick,” said Cecil, “He’s already sent two campers and a satyr to the infirmary.”

“He’s already shot a Lemur through the head with an arrow, and somehow, he’s managed to strip the skin from his fingers trying to shoot a fucking bow.”

Jason’s eyes widened, and before Cecil could say anything else, the son of Jupiter was already out the door. Cecil shook his head and wiped the tears from his eyes before he followed Jason out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. We're back on track with _The Years of My Longing_! So much crap is happening now, I don't even know where to begin! :D.
> 
> What did you think of the interaction between Annabeth and Percy? What do you suppose they were doing the previous night that they completely forgot to go to Chiron about Arachne? *cackles* Bottom Percy ftw!
> 
> Then there was the interaction between Will and Triton. Is anyone worried? Remember what happened back in _No Mercy for the Storm_? Nothing good comes when Will is being really aggressive. :3.
> 
> Then, finally, we have Jason and Cecil. What did you think of that scene? Did any thoughts of Cecil come to mind at all through this whole thing? Do you feel somewhat bad for him now that you realize just how much Nico's absence has thrown pretty much everything into chaos? :3.
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I liked it. If you haven't left a kudos yet and you like the story, leave one! If, on the other hand, you want to make me happy, leave a comment! I love reading your thoughts. :3. Oh, also, if you have any kinky fic requests, I might start doing some, so leave me a prompt in my ask box at [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)


	30. In Memoriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **T/W:** _Graphic depictions of gore and violence_
> 
> **A/N:** This chapter is a really important one, and while we're not shining the spotlight on our main characters, I think it's important to explore just how profoundly the last three years have changed the gods. Hades and Persephone are the perfect vessel to get this message across. :3.
> 
> In addition, I posted Chapter 4 of Immurement yesterday, entitled "God is Dead" where William and Nicola have sex and discuss the failings of the Church afterwards. :3. Here is a link: [[READ]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3613731/chapters/8731489)

Persephone traced her slender fingers across the bare skin of Hades’ shoulder. She had to admit that despite being in the body of a middle-aged man, Hades was still rather attractive without a shirt. He was a veritable Greek god. Persephone had to stifle her chuckle. Now was probably the least appropriate time for her thoughts to be wandering on this tangent.

Persephone pressed her lips to Hades’ skin, showering him with tender kisses as she drew his robes around his body. Ever since the events of the previous night, her husband had been visibly and understandably distraught. Even their new morning ritual—that never failed to make her cry out in pleasure at the end—did not seem to help Hades’ mood one bit.

Persephone was well-aware that normally, Hades was a pillar of strength. He was as unwavering as the kingdom he ruled away from the eyes of both gods and men. He was the rock upon which the gods depended, loathe as they were to admit it. Now, however, Persephone knew that Hades himself was in need of a pillar of his own. She could only hope that in this time of need, she could be that pillar.

Persephone had only ever loved Hades. She had not had any children beyond their daughter Melinoe. At first, she had loathed him. After all, she was kidnapped and not given much choice in the matter of her marriage. As the years passed, however, she had seen a side of Hades that she had never seen before.

Hades had eventually given Persephone her freedom, and instead of trying to escape his dark and dreary kingdom, Persephone had fallen in love with it. She had also fallen in love with Hades, of course. She had seen him as a monster in the beginning, but now more than ever, she realized that he was the least monstrous of the Olympians.

Needless to say, Persephone had very little in the way of romantic experience. She couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like for Hades to have one of the most important memories of his life, painful as it was, shorn from his consciousness in an instant.

Persephone had no doubt that as noble as Hades’ intentions had been, the satisfaction of doing the right thing had done nothing to soften the pain of the sacrifice that he’d made.

Persephone rubbed Hades’ arm gently. She looked upon her husband, entirely unused to seeing him like this. He was usually so very stoic and stern, at the very least in public. She knew that there was something warmer, kinder, more… _human_ underneath that. Still, seeing Hades vulnerable was a profound thing. Seeing the sorrow that enveloped her husband made her yearn for the kind of love she was sure Hades and Maria had shared.

Persephone was not jealous. She had long since grown out of that, thanks in no small part to Aphrodite. Her relationship with Hades was different. They were in love. There was no question about that. Their love, however, had matured and mellowed over the years. They weren’t looking at each other as starry-eyed lovers anymore. They were far past the stage of blushing romance. Instead, they were partners in everything.

Persephone yearned for what he was sure Hades and Maria had. That brief but meaningful and powerful bond that a goddess like her could only possibly experience with a mortal. It would not change what she felt for Hades, just as Hades’ relationship with Maria had not changed how he felt about her, but it was still something that she wanted to experience.

Persephone pressed her lips to Hades’ cheek. Perhaps she would yet find a mortal man that her mother would not scare half to death. She smiled at the idea, but she pushed it to the side. She had to focus on Hades right now. Gods knew she needed him more than ever.

“Are you ready, love?” said Persephone, picking up the parcel from the kitchen table. Gods did not need to sleep, but Hades had drifted off when they returned home just the previous night. He needed the sleep.

Persephone had stayed up. She spent hours crafting the most beautiful and lush roses that she could. Those twelve roses, six white, and six red, were now in the bouquet she held in her hands. Hades sighed as Persephone pressed the bouquet into Hades’ fingers.

“They’re gorgeous,” breathed Hades, looking down at the flowers. He had to bite back the tears that threatened to spill out. “Thank you, darling,” he said. Persephone rubbed his arm sympathetically. She could hear his struggle to get the words out without his voice breaking. “I really mean it. I think she would love them.”

“It’s the least I can do,” said Persephone, pressing a kiss to Hades’ temple. She looked around. Their accommodations at Theopolis were relatively humble. They lived in an apartment not unlike Nico and Will. Neither of them minded. They couldn’t always stay at Theopolis anyway, as much as Persephone would have wanted to live on the surface a lot more.

There was a part of Persephone that had come to love the Underworld, all its darkness, and the garden that Hades had built for her. There was also the fact that regardless of how well-staffed their kingdom was, there was always more work to be done. Some days, Persephone wished Thanatos was not as good as he was at his job.

Neither Persephone nor Hades could, in good conscience, take up a large house like Poseidon did. They would spend most of their time in the Underworld as always in any case. They had numerous duties that they could not simply abandon.

“Alright,” breathed Hades. He flashed a half-hearted smile at her. He felt numb all over, but more than that, he was slightly nervous about showing this much grief in front of Persephone.

Hades’ relationship with Persephone had evolved over the last three years. They had grown as man and wife, but he was still somewhat afraid. What man wouldn’t be? As far as he was concerned, there was something that felt inherently wrong about showing how much he’d loved Maria in front of the woman who was his _wife_.

Nevertheless, Hades’ fears were unfounded. Looking into Persephone’s eyes, he didn’t see any disdain. If anything, he saw a sparkle of sympathy. Her arms around him were warm and reassuring instead of possessive and jealous. He sighed and pressed a kiss to Persephone’s cheek before he wrapped his arm around her waist.

The two deities looked at each other before they took a step in tandem. The shadows swallowed them whole. Moments later they stepped out into a familiar obsidian courtyard. “Is it just me or do the flowers seem slightly dim today?” said Persephone, eyeing the glowing metal flowers that lined the sides of the courtyard.

Hades was too busy looking at the bouquet he cradled in his arms to notice that Persephone was entirely serious about the question. “I’m sure they’re as splendid as ev—” Hades did not get to finish his sentence. Persephone elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh,” said Hades, looking up. The flowers were practically dead. It was difficult to say that they were even alive to begin with, being made of metal and all, but the leaves and petals seemed wilted, and their normally-resplendent light was rather dim.

Persephone frowned. She was not sure what could cause her flowers to wilt. She had not even known they were capable of it. Nevertheless, it was an easy problem to fix. With a wave of her hand, the flowers came into full bloom again, shedding ethereal blues and greens across the courtyard.

Hades was taken aback by the contrast between the unlit courtyard and the place with the flowers in full bloom. He had always taken the flowers for granted, but now, he had to wonder how he tolerated the Underworld before Persephone had come around to brighten it up.

Hades shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on the very distant past, and the unfair lot that his brothers had only been too glad to give to him. Nevertheless, looking at Persephone, Hades knew that it had all been worth it in the end. “Come,” said Persephone, hooking her arm through Hades’ “We’ve work to do in the gardens.”

Hades could not help but smile as he looked into Persephone’s eyes. He was trembling, but she managed to steady him. He was afraid, but she smiled at him sympathetically. He returned the support with a kiss that carried the full force of his gratitude.

\----------

“Will!” Jason yelled as he shot out of the Zeus cabin. He didn’t know why he yelled. It wasn’t like Will could hear him. The archery range was still a ways away. He didn’t care. He was frantic with alarm, and he wanted nothing more than to know what was going wrong.

Campers fell out of Jason’s way as he shot across the green, faster than he had ever flown before. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he broke the sound barrier at the speed he was going, but he didn’t care enough to check.

Jason landed rather gracefully on the outer edges of the archery range. He alighted with a puff of dust around his feet. He looked down at himself and grimaced. He was still wearing his pyjamas. “William Solace!” he said, trying his best to sound confident and reassured, even though the cartoon lightning bolts on his pyjamas were making it difficult.

Jason looked around the range. There were still a few brave campers doing archery, but they were all gathered to either side. Will was standing in the centre, with an almost-empty quiver of arrows, and metres of empty space to either side of him. Even the audience was steering clear of him, and for good reason.

Jason could not believe what he was seeing. The ground in front of Will was stained red with blood, and all along the length of the range were intermittent splatters of crimson. Jason took a step closer. He felt his stomach flip. Will was trying furiously to nock an arrow, but the bowstring was glistening with blood with bits and pieces of flesh hanging off of it like a gruesome necklace. Will’s fingers looked as though they had been flayed. It was the stuff of nightmares.

“Will!” said Jason. Three times he’d called out Will’s name, and three times, all he’d gotten was a flinch. A flinch and an obvious effort not to look in his direction. “What are you doing?” he said, taking another step closer to the son of Apollo.

Jason heard the twang of the bowstring as Will let loose another arrow. It was strange, seeing Will standing at the archery range so confidently. He could see Will trembling, but somehow, he knew that it was from anger, not from nerves.

Jason could scarcely believe it, but the arrow flew straight and true. There was a soft hiss as the arrow cleaved in half another arrow buried in the centre of the target. Normally, he would have been proud. Will had been practising his archery so much. As he walked around to look at Will’s face, however, he was pretty sure that the son of Apollo was imagining something else, or, worse yet, _someone else_ in the place of the target.

Jason watched helplessly as Will’s trembling fingers fumbled with the last remaining arrow in the quiver. The shaft was already stained red, but fresh blood coated it. “Will,” said Jason, taking another step forward. “Stop.”

Will whirled where he stood at the edge of the firing range and glared at Jason. They both heard a small scuffle to the left, but they were too intent looking into each other’s eyes that they didn’t pay it much attention.

“Don’t come any closer,” said Will. His words were short, and Jason could see the tightness in Will’s jaw as he spoke them. Jason took a step forward, but he backed away in surprise when Will brought around his bow and pointed it at Jason.

“What the fuck are you doing?” said Jason, starting to feel nervous. He might have loved Will, but he was a warrior, and looking down the sharp arrowhead pointed at him was screaming at his every instinct to fight. “Will, this isn’t you. Come on. Just tell me what’s wrong. Hit me if you want to release your anger, but don’t hurt yourself.”

Will barked a bitter laugh in Jason’s face before he turned back to the targets. His trembling fingers only _just_ managed to nock the arrow and draw the bowstring to his cheek. “Will, please,” said Jason. He took a step toward Will and placed a hand on Will’s arm. The bowstring snapped forward and the arrow whistled through the air, dangerously off-course.

Instead of the thunk that they were both waiting for, Jason and Will instead heard a high-pitched scream. Will’s eyes darted nervously in the direction of the sound, but he quickly turned his eyes back to his target.

Jason saw an Ares camper, a little girl probably no more than thirteen, clutching her calf from where the fletched shaft of an arrow was sticking out. Blood was running from in between her fingers, and Jason realized, with horror, that the scuffle they’d heard earlier was from this girl wanting to take her arrows back from the targets.

“Will!” said Jason. He shook Will by the arm. “What did you do?” He looked into Will’s eyes and instead of seeing the concern and alarm he expected, there was only a dull anger in the glare that he met. “Did you even look at the poor girl?” said Jason with a frown.

Will raised an eyebrow at Jason. “Yeah,” he said, before turning back to the target with a huff and a shrug. He reached behind him for more arrows. “She’s a big girl. She can handle an arrow. We’ve dealt with a lot more shit than that in the last five years.”

Will didn’t particularly care at this point. His doctor-ly sensibilities were lying elsewhere, abandoned. He was angry, visibly distraught, and volatile. He was sure that if he did not think so highly of Jason, he would probably have punched the son of Jupiter in the face. Needless to say, he was _still_ considering doing just that.

Will fumbled with his quiver. He could have sworn there were more arrows in there. His bleeding fingers could not find a single one. Thankfully, the fates seemed to smile upon him at that moment. A young man, probably no younger than seventeen walked up to the range beside Will, completely oblivious to the fearful distance that the other campers kept from him.

The young man walked with a confident gait, and the way that he raised the bow in his hands showed proficiency in the art of archery. Handsome though as the boy was with his chiseled face and his slicked-back black hair, Will did not like him one bit. He looked almost like a peacock strutting around with its feathers raised, showing everyone how good at archery he was. It certainly didn’t help that the boy reminded Will of Eros.

Will wanted to punch the boy in the face.

The bow in the young man’s hand was made of a pale, almost-white wood with red tendrils spiralling around its length. It was strung with silvery thread that glimmered in the morning sun. What caught Will’s attention, however, was the full quiver on the boy’s back, made of white leather with crimson accents. The arrows themselves looked rather pretentious, made of the same pale wood as the bow, fletched with plumes of red feathers.

Will _definitely_ wanted to punch the boy in the face. As he walked over to the camper, whom he assumed was a child of Eros, he decided he would settle with just taking the quiver. Some part of him rebelled against the idea, but anger was burning through his veins. There was a fury within him that simply _would not_ be quelled. It drove him to do things he would have normally found repulsive.

Will loomed over the boy. Jason was not far behind him, watching warily for what Will might do to the poor child. What happened next shocked the son of Jupiter. It was so unlike Will to be so violent.

The child looked up at Will and said, politely, “Um, hi? How can I he—” He did not get to finish his sentence. The next moment, he was sprawled on the dust, coughing, as Will grabbed the quiver from around his shoulders.

Jason ran to the boy and helped him up. “Fuck, man,” said the boy, scrambling to his feet and wiping blood from where he’d bit his lip. “You could have just asked me to move nicely,” said the boy. He looked down at his hand and grimaced at the blood.

“What’s your name?” said Jason, as he helped dust the boy off as best as he could. He held one of the boy’s arms and blew over the bleeding scrapes. “I’m sorry about my friend. I don’t know what’s wrong with him but…” Jason glanced at Will.

“My name is Maksym…” The boy trailed off as he patted at his chest. It took him a moment to realize that his quiver had been stolen. “Hey!” he shouted, just as Will was grabbing one of the arrows, staining the pristine shaft with his blood. “Hey! Give that back!”

Will turned to the boy and snarled. “Make me!” he said, with a growl. Maksym clenched his fists to either side. He trembled with anger, and while Jason tried to hold him back, he was much too slippery. Before Will knew it, he was being tackled to the ground by the boy.

Jason ran over to the two and pulled them apart before too much damage was done. It seemed he had intervened just in time. Will had a murderous look in his eyes, and it looked like he was about ready to stab Maksym with the arrow he held loosely in his fingers.

Jason took a good long look at the boy. Maksym was holding back tears, and his cheek was beginning to swell. “Give it back!” yelled the boy, trying to reach for Will over Jason. “I made those with father!”

“Fuck you!” said Will, flinging some of his blood at the boy’s face as he scrambled back to his feet.

“Stop it, Will!” said Jason. He didn’t want to snap at Will, but he’d learned that the only way to get through to Will when he was being belligerent was to yell at him. “Stop it before you do anything more that you’re just going to regret later!”

Jason felt rather guilty about it, but he didn’t particularly care about Maksym or the girl that Will had injured earlier. They would heal quickly. They would get ambrosia, after all. What Jason was concerned with was the possibility of Will cutting himself again.

Will snarled at Jason, too. He didn’t even get a verbal response. The next thing he knew, droplets of Will’s blood were splattering against his face. Jason sighed and turned to Maksym. “I’m sorry you have to see this, kid.”

Perhaps Will could have held his ground against Jason, but he was injured, and he wasn’t thinking straight. Jason knew that in this state, Will had no hope of fighting him. He walked over to Will and plucked the arrow from Will’s trembling fingers.

Jason half-turned and tossed the arrow at Maksym. The boy caught it and frowned at the blood that had stained the shaft. “Will,” said Jason, shaking his head when the son of Apollo reached for another arrow, “Will, stop this. You’re not thinking right.”

“No, he’s not,” said Maksym from the side, feeling emboldened by Jason’s presence. Will glared at him and almost instantly he quailed and looked at his feet.

“I am thinking perfectly fine, Grace,” said Will through gritted teeth as he tried, and failed, to get a hold of an arrow from the quiver. “Fuck,” he said. The smooth wood of the shafts slipped from his fingers because of his blood. “I’m not going to stop.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” said Jason, shaking his head. Will slowly turned to face him. There was a gleam in Will’s eyes that Jason didn’t like. He saw Will’s shoulder tense for a punch, but before the son of Apollo could throw his fist, Jason had swept his feet out from under him.

Will fell backward on a cushion of air, but before he could get back to his feet, Jason sat on his chest and pinned his arms to either side of him. Jason took all of the arrows from the stolen quiver and handed them back to Maksym. There was no way that he was going to get the quiver off of Will at the moment, but Maksym would simply have to wait.

“C-can I have the quiver back later?” said Maksym, looking at Jason with large, pleading eyes. It had only just dawned on him who the two demigods in front of him were. He was angry at Will, but he certainly didn’t want to get involved in a scuffle with the now-legendary Jason Grace.

“Sure, kid,” said Jason, with an apologetic smile. He watched as Maksym shuffled away to stand by a few campers that looked to be about his age. When the boy looked back in Jason’s direction, Jason could see that he looked visibly shaken. “Have you gone insane?” said Jason, loosening the grip he had on Will with his thighs.

Giving Will some leeway was a mistake, but not one that could easily be rectified. Will raised his hand to smack Jason, but Will caught his wrist before he could do any damage. “Look at this!” said Jason, shaking Will’s arm, flinging droplets of blood all over the place. “This is stupid! Heal yourself!”

Jason took the time to take a closer look at Will’s injury. Two of Will’s fingers were red, raw, and bleeding. It looked like all the skin had been sloughed off of them. He couldn’t imagine the pain that Will must have gone through to let it get this bad. He couldn’t imagine what would drive Will to do something this self-destructive, especially now that Nico was back.

Jason’s eyes widened just as Will spat in his face. “Did Nico leave?” he said, voice soft and afraid.

“What do you care?” said Will, struggling with all his strength to get Jason off of him. “Wouldn’t that be great for you?” said Will, his voice dripping with such venom that Jason couldn’t understand. “With Nico out of the picture, you would have me all to yourself.” Will laughed, bitterly. “No, he’s still here.”

Jason resisted the urge to slap Will for what the son of Apollo had just said. He knew that Will was simply acting irrationally. “I don’t know what’s got you so worked up,” said Jason, wiping away the spit on his face with disdain, “but this is not you, Will. The Will I know would never knowingly harm someone.”

“The Will I know would care if he accidentally shot someone with an arrow.” The brief flash of guilt that Jason saw in Will’s eyes was a relief. “You will heal yourself and you will tell me what’s going on, or I swear by the River Styx, I will have someone else do it.”

Jason could only sigh and shake his head when Will pursed his lips and shot Jason the best ‘ _make me_ ’ glare that he could manage. Jason had hoped it would not come to this. He hated having to rely on the minor gods and goddesses.

There were days that Jason resented the fact that he was _pontifex maximus_ , but the post came with quite a few handy privileges. There were certain _perks_ that came in handy sometimes. “Asclepius!” he shouted. He didn’t want to disturb Asclepius since the god was one of the more gracious ones, but he felt only a son of Apollo could shed light on what was going on. “Asclepius!”

Before Jason could say the name a third time, the god appeared before him in a flash of light. He had to bite back a sigh of relief that Asclepius did not look angry in the least. Asclepius was one of the more reasonable minor gods, and Jason actually rather liked the guy.

Jason wasn’t surprised when instead of looking at him, Asclepius turned his eyes to the young man struggling underneath him. “Could you maybe tell me what’s going on with him, Asclepius?” he said. He knew it was a stupid question. Asclepius was a physician, not a mind-reader, but he didn’t think it would do any harm to ask. “He doesn’t want to heal himself.”

Asclepius looked at Jason and raised an eyebrow. There was concern in those kindly, weary eyes. The look certainly didn’t help the nervous knot in Jason’s stomach.

Asclepius knelt beside Will, unable to shake the feeling that between himself and Will, the other was far more a child of Apollo’s thank himself. He did not mind, but it also meant that Will had inherited more of their father’s vicious temper. “He can’t,” said the physician, simply.

“What do you mean he can’t?” said Jason. He leaned forward on Will before he realized what he was doing. Will grunted in discomfort from the feeling of Jason’s weight shifting on his chest. “He’s a healer! The best of them, even.” Jason remembered who it was that he was talking to. “Err… Um… No offence.”

Asclepius chuckled and waved his hand in dismissal. “None taken,” said the god, “In his particular brand of healing, he is certainly the best. I don’t have his powers, frankly.”

“Ask me about poultices and medicines, however,” said Asclepius with a wink at Jason, “He’ll have to work for a very, _very_ long time to catch up to me.” Jason watched as Asclepius pressed the palm of his hand to Will’s forehead. A brief frown creased Asclepius’ brow, sending a bolt of panic through Jason.

Asclepius snapped his fingers, conjuring his staff from thin air. The green python unwound from it and looked up blearily at Jason, forked tongue darting out as though to taste his scent on the air. Jason watched the serpent warily, although he was sure that if snakes could smile, Spike was smiling at him.

“Cough it up, Spike,” said Asclepius, holding out his hand to the python. Spike slithered up the length of Asclepius’ arm and looked balefully at his master. “Go on,” said Asclepius. Spike hissed before regurgitating a phial onto Asclepius’ hand. Why Asclepius used the snake to store his medicines instead of a bag, Jason didn’t understand.

“Good boy,” said the physician with a patronizing pat to Spike’s head.

“I’m not drinking that!” said Will, thrashing with as much strength as he could under Jason. He wasn’t able to accomplish much. “Go away!” said Will, his efforts to free himself from Jason doubling.

Asclepius shook his head and made soothing noises. “You don’t have to,” said the physician. With slender fingers that were stronger than they looked, Asclepius pinned Will’s wrist to the ground. With his other free hand, he opened the phial and tipped two drops of the liquid inside onto Will’s injured fingers.

Will thrashed from the pain as the liquid hissed and bubbled on his skin. Jason grimaced at the sight. “Drinking it would have been easier,” said Asclepius, tapping Will on the temple as Spike rubbed his head against Will’s forehead.

When finally, the flesh on Will’s fingers began to knit back together, Asclepius turned to Jason. He shook his arm and Spike vanished in a puff of smoke. “To answer your question,” said the god with a sad smile. “He can’t heal himself because his fingers were the least of his concerns. I don’t doubt he had the ability to use his powers, but,” Asclepius pressed a bony finger to the centre of Jason’s chest; “That is where his wounds lie most.”

Asclepius rose from where he’d been kneeling by Will when Will finally stopped struggling. He nodded in Jason’s direction as the tears began to fall from Will’s face. “I’ll leave the two of you to it, then,” said Asclepius with a sympathetic smile. Moments later, the god was gone in a flash of light.

Jason looked down at Will, surprised to see all the anger drained out of Will. Will’s eyes were squeezed shut, and there were tears running down his face. Slowly, Jason clambered off of Will and wiped the tears from Will’s cheeks. Gently, he picked Will up off the floor and held Will close as he began to sob uncontrollably.

“What’s the problem?” said Jason. He rubbed Will’s back in slow, circular motions. It was the only thing he could think to do, but it didn’t seem to help Will calm down in the least. If anything, the close contact only seemed to make Will more distraught.

Jason didn’t want to let Will go. He wasn’t sure if Will would do anything more destructive. He would rather endure the pain of holding Will like this than see Will start cutting again.

“Nico wants to break up with me,” said Will. Each word came out strained. Each breath that Will took was laboured. It almost seemed, to Jason, that Will was finding it physically difficult to speak those words. Needless to say, Jason was stunned speechless.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Jason…” said Will, burying his face in Jason’s chest as his entire body was wracked with sobs. “This isn’t how I thought us getting back together would go…”

\----------

Hades took a moment to appreciate what he and Persephone had wrought together. It was certainly a beauty. “Since when have we worked this well together?” whispered Hades. While the Underworld was all his own, the moment was a solemn one and he didn’t want to disturb the silence.

“Ever since Aphrodite helped us understand what we have,” said Persephone, leaning in to place a kiss on Hades’ cheek. “Go on,” she said, giving Hades a pat on the bottom. “She’s waiting for you.”

Hades stood there for a moment, frozen where he stood by the sheer _reality_ of the memory that he’d forgotten. Until now, until the memorial had been built, Maria’s death had been a faint loss in the back of his mind. The gravity of it all threatened to crush him, now. Nevertheless, he blushed when Persephone pinched his ass to get him to move.

Hades took slow, measured steps in the direction of the memorial. It was a single column of fluted obsidian in the traditional Corinthian style. Toward the top of the column, the stone was criss-crossed with veins of ghostly white marble that resembled the pattern of light at the bottom of a clear pool of water.

It was hearkening back to one of the better memories that Hades had of the time he and Maria had spent together. He’d managed, somehow, to convince Poseidon to give him one of those sand dollars. On that day, so long ago, now, the canals of Venice were as clear as glass.

Atop the pillar floated a gondola made of solid gold. It shone with a brazen brilliance that cast dancing shapes of light all about the garden. The bottom of its hull shed golden motes of light that broke into sparkles upon striking the surface of the capstone of the column.

Finally, both Hades and Persephone had raised a veritable garden around the memorial itself. Of course, there was no vegetation in the truest sense of the word, but they made do with what the Underworld had to offer.

Around the column of obsidian wound a vine of silver-bearing diamond fruit. Flowers made of rubies, sapphires, and emeralds were abundant upon stalks made of platinum. It was a display of grandeur, of all the riches of the Underworld. All the same, it was a display of love, with each plant wrought with the utmost of care and craftsmanship.

For all the wealth that they had between them, however, Hades and Persephone both understood that they could not bring Maria di Angelo back. Given the choice, they would have—Hades to make it up to the woman he’d loved, and Persephone to meet her and perhaps make a friend.

Regardless of their intentions, neither Hades nor Persephone had the power to grant Maria’s spirit back the memories that the Lethe had stolen from her. She was in Asphodel, after all, judged to have not been particularly good or bad in her life.

Hades knelt before the memorial and lay the roses that Persephone had crafted at its feet. They were beautiful, but he could not help but feel as though they were inadequate to express his love, his sorrow, and his regret. Yes, he had loved Maria enough to give her two children, but he had also inadvertently stolen her life from her.

Hades had practically erased Maria di Angelo from history. The truth hit Hades like a sack of bricks. The realization of his failings were what finally broke Hades’ fragile composure.

Hades shook as the tears began to fall from his eyes, but he had work to do. He called forth his powers and entombed the flowers in a dome of clear crystal, preserving them for all eternity, at the foot of the memorial to Maria. “Have I failed her?” said Hades, in a voice no louder than a whisper. “I stole her children from her, and I stole their mother from them…”

Hades found himself clutching Persephone’s hand when he felt it land on his shoulder. Persephone’s touch was firm but gentle. It was soothing. It was reassuring. “No,” said Persephone, crouching down on her haunches beside Hades; “You haven’t failed her.”

Persephone stroked the side of Hades’ face with the back of her index finger. “Nico is still alive, isn’t he?” she said, squeezing Hades’ shoulder. “Isn’t that what she would have wanted? Bianca might have died, but she did so nobly. She’s been given a fresh start. She could have a happier life.”

Persephone smiled sympathetically at her husband. “Hades, isn’t that what Maria would have wanted in the end?” she said. She and Hades had one child, and though Melinoe had a rather nasty streak, Persephone still loved her.

“I’ve failed Nico, too,” said Hades, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing Persephone’s hand to his cheek. Normally the contact would have made him uncomfortable, but he found that he _needed_ it at the moment. “Now that I can’t remember Maria’s death, I can only imagine the pain that Nico must have felt in finding out that I erased his entire childhood.”

“But you’re his father,” said Persephone in as soothing a tone as she could manage. “I’m sure he understands now that you did what you had to do to protect him.” Persephone rubbed Hades’ back in gentle circles. “Maybe you’ve not done the best job of being a father, but this is your chance, isn’t it?”

“Nico is as much my son now, as he is yours,” said Persephone, pressing a kiss to Hades’ temple. “He’s powerful. More than I could have ever imagined. He doesn’t need protection anymore.”

Persephone let slip a soft laugh. “But he’s still Nico di Angelo, the boy that had to grow up really quickly because the Fates would not have had it any other way. He can still get lost. He still needs guidance.”

Persephone leaned her head against Hades’. “You and I can tell he bears a heavier burden than even us, no?” she said, rubbing Hades’ arm. “What he needs is a family. Parents. People that can help him bear the mountain that I have no doubt was offered to him to carry with very little choice.”

Before Hades could answer, he felt something tug at the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know why, but instinct made him turn his eyes to the gondola that was supposed to be rocking back and forth atop the column of obsidian. It was frozen. The motes of golden light that were supposed to fall from the bottom of the boat were still in mid-air. Time itself had come to a grinding halt.

“Yes,” said a voice from behind the two deities. Persephone and Hades both whirled around to see a man whose appearance shifted so quickly from one culture to the next so fast that even their godly minds could not comprehend it. “He needs a family,” said the Nameless One; “He needs love. He needs support.”

The Nameless One tipped his hat, which changed from top-hat to bowler hat to Aztec headdress to turban to Papal mitre and back. “Trust me, darlings,” said the Nameless One with a hint of amusement and gravity in his voice, “By the end of what will come to pass, he’ll need people to keep him human most of all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There we are. This was a really great chapter to write. Exploring the characters of Hades and Persephone is always a joy. Like I said in the notes at the beginning of this chapter, I think that it's really important for you guys to realize just how much the gods have changed now that they don't have Olympus as their home. This will really factor in to the story going forward.
> 
> You might realize at some point that a lot of them are actually making great efforts to know their children, and they're beginning to feel how much it hurts to be practically abandoned since their children are resistant to their attempts to bond.
> 
> One of the most profound things I've read about the Graeco-Roman gods is that they are like children themselves. They are immortal, and because they are immortal they kind of never grew up because they are _physically unable to._ Now that they are faced with the reality that they have to live in Theopolis because Olympus is closed to them, they are being forced to change. They are being forced to grow up and become leaders in their own rights, which is why they are integral to the story that I'm trying to tell.
> 
> Anyway, enough of that. What did you think of Jason and Will's scene? Will is going out of control. He's going berserk! And this is just _knowing_ the _least_ of what happened to Nico. What's he going to do when he actually _meets_ Wyn and Nico holds him back because Nico doesn't want him to hurt Wyn?
> 
> I would love to read your thoughts, so leave a comment if you like the story so far! If you haven't yet, and you like the way things are headed, leave me a kudos! Until next week, folks! <3.


	31. Tell Me

_The sound of a slap echoed in the empty Aphrodite cabin. “That, is for losing your mind and injuring other campers,” said Piper, in an authoritative and stern voice. While his face hurt like hell, Will recognized that he probably deserved it for losing control. It wasn’t often he was that angry, but it was always scary._

_“I honestly cannot believe you did that!” Piper shrieked, having dealt with enough stress-inducing things since the morning. “What on earth were you thinking, Will?” she said. Piper and Will weren’t too close, but that he had sought her out made Piper feel both warm and exasperated._

_Piper had been happy at first to see Will and Jason at her door, and then Jason spilled the story. Now, she was_ less _than happy. “I really don’t want to do this with anyone else in the room,” said Will, fingers tenderly touching the outline of Piper’s hand on his cheek._

_Will had stopped crying, but only just. It was thanks in no small part to Jason’s gentle but firm hands rubbing the tension out of his shoulders. He couldn’t help but feel even worse about just dropping Jason because Nico had come back. Piper’s slap had definitely not helped with soothing his injured heart._

_“Alright,” said Piper. She pinched the bridge of her nose, placed a fist on her hip, and breathed a sigh. She looked at Jason meaningfully and jerked her head in the direction of the door. She was pretty sure Jason knew the gesture well enough by now. “You heard the man,” she said._

_“But—” said Jason, a frown furrowing his brows. Surely, Will didn’t want_ him _to leave. He was the one that was offering comfort to Will. He had_ been _Will’s comfort for the last three years. Looking into Will’s shame-filled eyes, though, it seemed that was exactly what Will wanted._

_“I won’t be a bother,” said Jason, eyes wide and pleading as he looked back and forth between Piper and Will. “I promise. You won’t even know I’m here.” Will groaned when Jason pressed his fingers particularly hard on one part of his shoulder. “I just want to help,” said Jason._

_“The only way that you’re going to help here, Jason, is by leaving,” said Piper. She could see, with the tension in Will’s body that the son of Apollo was not going to budge any time soon._

_Piper, on the other hand, had just had to deal with Drew fucking Tanaka’s bullshit and she wasn’t about to tolerate arguing with Jason any time soon. Jason opened his mouth again to protest, but Piper had had enough. She was dangerous when she was stressed. “ **Get out** ,” she said._

_Whatever resistance Jason had left in him seemed to evaporate in an instant as the charmspeak washed over him. His entire body went slack, his eyes glazed over, and his fingers fell away from Will’s shoulders. Without any further noise, Jason walked out the door and shut it behind him without a single peep._

_“Did you just charmspeak him out of the room?” said Will, looking warily at Piper. He was beginning to reconsider coming to her for advice. What she just did was suspiciously like what Wyn had done to Nico, and it made him uncomfortable. Will hadn’t realized how powerful Piper’s charmspeaking had become over the last couple of years._

_“Yeah,” said Piper, with a sigh, as she pressed her index finger and thumb to either of her temples. “I just didn’t want to argue,” she said, taking a seat on her bed, right across from Drew’s._

_Piper couldn’t help but giggle as soon as the realization hit her. “I think it’s quite flattering he still finds me at all attractive, though,” she said, with a grin. Maybe seeing Jason after having to deal with Drew was not the worst thing that could have happened after all. She sighed almost dreamily and shook her head. “Boys, huh?” she said._

_“Yeah,” said Will, barking a nervous laugh. He refused to look Piper in the eye. “Boys,” he said, looking at his feet before he took a seat on Drew’s bed. “Piper,” he said, coughing into his fist to clear his throat, “I need your advice.”_

_“I gathered that,” said Piper, with a laugh. As stressed as she was, she couldn’t help but find amusement in the utterly innocent and helpless way that Will came to her for advice. “But if it’s advice about boys, why didn’t you go to my mom instead?”_

_The look that Will flashed in Piper’s direction was answer enough. She had to bite back another giggle. Truth be told, Will looked like he would have rather cut off his own dick instead of going to Aphrodite. She couldn’t blame him. Her mother had a tendency to act like a ditz when she was anything but._

_The look of abject sorrow on Will’s face turned Piper’s expression somber. The question of why Will had flown into a rage that had been dwelling at the back of her mind came rapidly to the front. “Nico wants to break up with me,” whispered Will in a voice barely audible in the cabin._

_Whatever amusement that Piper had left in her was quickly thrown out the window. She fought down the urge to gasp. She raised an eyebrow in Will’s direction, unwilling to speak in the silence that followed._

_“I can’t tell you why, but it’s very serious…” said Will, beginning to feel rather stupid for coming to Piper for advice when he couldn’t tell her why he was asking for advice. “I… I just need to know what I can do to make him see that we don’t have much time. I just need_ something _that can make him see that we could still be together while we work through his issues.”_

_Will paused. “Our issues,” he said, looking down at his feet. Gods knew he had many issues of his own after three very dark years in his life._

_Piper frowned. She didn’t know what to say. Normally she was very forthcoming with her advice, but something about the situation that Will explained was off, and she couldn’t figure out what it was. “Tell him that,” said Piper._

_Truth be told, Piper simply didn’t know what advice she could give Will. She was certain that Will knew what to do. There was only one reason she could think of that Will would come to her for advice: he had already tried everything he knew, and it had all failed. Without knowing what the problem was, though, Piper didn’t think she could give any useful advice._

_“I tried!” said Will, despair seeping into his voice. “I tried everything that I knew to do… Everything that was common sense. Nothing is working, though, Piper!” he said, wringing his hands in front of his face._

_“I told him that I would be there for him if he ever needed help because I didn’t want to force him to accept my help!” Will buried his face between his hands. “I thought if I let him have his space and be free to take my help he would come to me, but he just pushed me away!”_

_“Then tell me what’s going on, Will,” said Piper. She reached out and gently touched Will’s arm. “Tell me what’s wrong between the two of you because I don’t think I can offer much advice other than what I know you know already.”_

_For a brief moment, Will was torn. He looked into Piper’s eyes for the first time, and he found himself tempted to blurt out to her everything that he had discovered thus far, everything that burdened his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to. His fear of Nico’s reaction at his betrayal silenced his tongue. “I-I can’t” he stammered. “It’s not my place to say.”_

_Piper frowned. She had seen in Will’s eyes that he wanted to tell her about it, but he had stopped short of doing just that. “Will,” she said, “if I swear on the River Styx that I won’t tell anyone else without yours and Nico’s permission, would that help?”_

_Once again, Will was torn. He contemplated the offer for a moment, but he shook his head from side to side eventually. No. He was convinced it would still have counted as breaching Nico’s trust. “Then I can’t help you,” said Piper._

_Something inside of Will broke. He was desperate. He clambered down the bed and knelt in front of Piper. He raised his eyes and looked at her, imploring. “Please, Piper,” he begged, “I just don’t know what else to do…” He felt ashamed he had to do this, but he didn’t think he had much of a choice._

_“I can’t give you any advice unless I know the situation, Will,” said Piper, reaching down and taking one of Will’s hands in her own. She covered it with her other hand as Will lowered his gaze and began to tremble. “I didn’t want it to come to this but…”_

_“ **Will**_ , _” said Piper, pouring as much of her power into her words as much as she possibly could. “ **Look into my eyes.** ” Will found it difficult to resist. He looked back up and looked into Piper’s eyes as they began to shift colours. “ **You know that telling me is the only way I can help you. Tell me what’s going on.** ”_

_Will blinked as the charmspeak washed over him. He bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t inadvertently blurt anything out before he got assurance from Piper of utmost confidence. He could only resist compulsion for so long. Especially compulsion this strong. “Will you swear on the River Styx?” said Will, his voice strained with the effort of resisting the charmspeak._

_“I swear on the River Styx I will tell no other soul what you are about to tell me, without permission from you and Nico,” said Piper. Will nodded, satisfied with the oath as the sky rumbled. Still, the fear of betraying Nico held Will’s tongue. Piper shook her head and summoned all her strength into three words: “ **Tell me now.** ” This time, Will had no hope of resisting._

\----------

“Baby steps, Nico,” said Will, his voice soft. He was standing in the doorway to Nico’s room, though the door was closed behind him. He had expected some resistance from Nico, but this was rapidly approaching the point of stupidity.

Nico was curled up in a corner, babbling “nope” over and over again no matter what Will said, no matter how he said it, no matter how reasonable he sounded. As far as Nico was concerned, he didn’t even want to _deal_ with the problem that he had at hand at the moment. It was just so much easier to curl up in a corner to try and forget.

“All I’m asking is that we try, Nico,” said Will, planting his fists on his hips. “I’m not asking you to hug me, kiss me, or even hold my hand.” Nico was being hard-headed and stubborn. Will didn’t know if Nico had forgotten or was simply being wilful but he knew that Nico knew that he could be just as hard-headed and stubborn.

“No,” said Nico. He was beginning to get exasperated with Will’s pestering. At the very least, he wasn’t having a panic attack since Will was rather far away from him.

“I don’t want to touch you,” said Nico, “I don’t want to see you. I want you out of here. Okay? Leave me alone to my misery.” He hissed as he clutched his knees to his chest. The truth was that he _wanted_ all those things, but he couldn’t, because every time Will tried, Will reminded him of Wyn.

Will had to wonder how long Nico had been curled up in that corner of his. He had returned after a particularly enlightening conversation with Piper to Nico shivering by the wall. Despite ten minutes of trying to convince Nico to at least _try_ the solution that Piper had suggested, Nico still hadn’t moved an inch from where he lay on the floor.

“Look,” said Will, stepping further into the room for the first time at the exact same moment that Nico stretched himself out and looked balefully at him. “I know you don’t mean what you just said.” Will shook his head sadly. “I know you don’t want to break up. I just want to help, okay?” Will hadn’t wanted to pull it out, but when Nico looked up at him, he tried his best to look harmless. “Wouldn’t you at least try for me?”

Nico grumbled under his breath. He had to remind Piper to not teach Will how to get through to him. At the same time, he had to concede to Will’s point. He had been doing a lot of thinking, and Will was right. He didn’t want to break up with Will. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted.

However, there was one small thing that was standing in the way of him being happily committed to Will, and that was the horrid violation he’d suffered at the hands of Wyn.

Nevertheless, if Will had a solution, Nico had to admit that it was for the best that he at least try to play along, even if he wasn’t convinced by it. “Fine,” said Nico. He grunted as he sat up, leaning against the nearest wall for support.

Nico dusted himself off and looked up into Will’s bright blue eyes. There was a sparkle there that he thought had died the moment he said he wanted to break up. A sparkle that he thought he might never get to see again, considering what was coming in a few short weeks. There was hope in Will’s eyes.

“I’ll do this,” said Nico, with a grimace as he looked down at his hands. HE didn’t know if he could, but as Will had made him realize, he at least wanted to try.  The truth was that he still loved Will so much that it hurt, and he wanted to be able to bridge the gap that someone else had seen fit to force between them.

Nico looked away. As much as he wanted to see Will at least a little more hopeful, there was a part of him that feared it. “I’ll do this for you,” he said, staring off at a distant point. Part of him really wanted to do what Piper had suggested, but another part of him was afraid that if it failed, the light of hope in Will’s eyes would be extinguished forever. “I can’t promise it will work, though.”

“It’s okay,” said Will, locking eyes with Nico once more. The kindness had returned to those soft blue eyes. They were no longer dulled because of years of pain and suffering. There was no longer the bare anger and the sheer thirst for vengeance that he’d seen earlier there.

Truth be told, Nico was relieved the anger was gone. It had been disturbing, the amount of bitter loathing that he had seen in Will’s eyes. He had not thought that Will could be capable of such jealousy, anger, bitterness, and most of all, _hatred_.

“Just like I said,” said Will, holding out a hand to Nico that was summarily ignored. “Baby steps, right? The first time’s bound to not work, but we’ll keep trying, okay?” Will pulled back his hand to his chest. “Even if it doesn’t, we’ll work on it. We’ll find some way to fix things. Together.”

Nico wanted to ask Will how he was so sure of himself, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. The kindly healer that he had sort-of fallen in love with all those years ago had, somehow, come back. Sure, Will looked much less healthy than he had been back then, but the sparkle in Will’s eyes was one of the most comforting things that Nico had seen in a very long time.

“Besides,” said Will, with a self-deprecating smile that told Nico that he didn’t particularly like what he was about to say, “We have back-up.” Will pulled open the door and beckoned two more people into the room.

Nico froze where he sat at the sight of Jason and Hazel. They froze at the sight of him, trying, frantically to wipe away the tears in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” said Will, before Nico could have an outburst. “I didn’t tell them anything about the specifics of what’s going on and what led to this,” said Will, placing a hand each on Jason’s and Hazel’s shoulders. “But they’re here just in case something goes wrong. Is that alright?”

Nico locked eyes with Will as relief flooded his system. For a moment, he had been gripped with the crippling fear that Hazel, of all people, knew what had happened to him at the hands of Wyn. “T-Thank you,” he said, managing to stammer through the two words after a couple of tries. “That definitely helps.”

With his hands still on the shoulders of Jason and Hazel, Will pushed the two other demigods out of the room and closed the door behind them. With the two of them gone, Will stood there, unmoving. He was satisfied enough with just looking at Nico, trying to get a read on the emotions flitting through those beautiful dark eyes that were just staring at him as though expecting him to make the first wrong move.

“Sorry about that,” said Will, after the moment of silence had gone on long enough. “Piper suggested you might want the extra security.”

“Let’s start with something a bit easy, okay?” said Will, as he took one step toward Nico. Nico didn’t move, not so much as flinch. Will wasn’t close enough for things to be uncomfortable yet. “Okay,” said Will, “I’m going to keep taking steps toward you. I want you to tell me when you don’t want me to go any further.”

Will looked at Nico expectantly, and for the longest time, Nico just looked at him. Finally, Nico nodded, and Will took his first step. There was no reaction from the son of Hades. He took another step. Still nothing. After that, Will could see Nico visibly tense as he got closer and closer.

Will made sure that Nico could see his hands at all times. He held Nico’s gaze, unwilling to let it go. He moved slowly, and calmly. He didn’t want to seem threatening in the least. He didn’t want to seem aggressive, anyway. He didn’t want Nico to think the was about to get assaulted.

Finally, when Will was about five steps away from him, Nico had had enough. “Stop!” he said, unable to help the stammering that caught his tongue. Nico looked away as crimson rose to his cheeks. He had faced down Tartarus on his own, he had defied Nyx herself and commanded an army of gods and demigods that weren’t even Greek against her forces of night, and _this_ was what made him quail? Nico couldn’t help but feel as though being afraid was a sign of being pathetic.

Will stopped the moment that Nico told him to stop. He looked into Nico’s eyes, familiar with the expression that he saw. Will got down on his haunches. Gods knew how many times he’d felt inadequate because he was afraid of the silliest things before.

“Monsters, Titans, Giants…” said Will with a wistful look in his eyes. “It’s not bad to be afraid,” he said.

“I’m not stupid,” said Nico testily, glaring at Will and the way that the son of Apollo had said the words in a borderline-patronizing voice. “Knowing fear and embracing it is what keeps you alive when you’re in the middle of a war, Will.”

Will shrugged. He would have to take Nico’s word on it. He didn’t really have too much experience in this whole war thing. Not as much as he could tell Nico did. “Yeah, well, those things are scary in their own right, sure,” said Will, “But wouldn’t you agree that some of the scariest things in the world are people just like you and me?”

Nico tilted his head and looked at Will strangely. It was as though someone else had taken over and possessed his boyfriend’s body. He had never heard Will spout something so close to wisdom before, and he had to take a moment to absorb what Will had just said.

“You can always tell what monsters or gods would do, right?” said Will, with a nervous smile. “They’re all insufferable, selfish fucks, so it’s easy to tell they’ll save themselves first chance they get.” Nico had to bite back a peal of laughter because what Will had just said was true.

All the same, Nico knew that the gods could be compassionate as well. “But other people? Can’t really tell.”

“What are you getting at, Will?” said Nico, sceptical. He had to admit that Will’s lighter approach was beginning to work wonders. He wanted to think that this was the way Will actually treated his patients, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder how things would have gone if Will had not come to him expecting to be kindred spirits in their loneliness.

“What I’m getting at is that there are scarier things than monsters, Nico,” said Will. “There are some things even scarier than other people.” Will looked sympathetically at Nico, and Nico’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you ever hear those other yous in your head? Other voices that are _you_ , but most of the time you don’t want to hear them? Aren’t they fucking terrifying?”

For a moment, Nico considered whether he should get up and run away screaming, but he realized that Will was talking about the ‘parts’ of him that told him often-conflicting things. “Yeah,” he admitted, “They’re pretty scary.”

Will had to bite back a laugh at the brief but utterly terrified expression that crossed Nico’s face. “I’m not schizophrenic,” said Will, with a gentle smile. “I was talking about thoughts. Those dark thoughts that you just can’t get rid of.”

“Do you want me to show you something?” said Will, his breath hitching in his throat as he inched closer to Nico. Nico didn’t complain. “Do you want to see what those dark thoughts that haunt your every waking and sleeping moments can do to you?”

Will stopped about four paces away from Nico. After a moment of deliberation, Nico nodded. Will sighed and rolled up his sleeve, much to Nico’s dismay. At first, however, Nico didn’t see that anything was wrong. It wasn’t until Will licked the palm of his hand, and rubbed it against his arm, that Nico scrambled back in abject terror.

Like magic, or perhaps, like make-up, it seemed as though Will was sloughing off the topmost layer of his skin. It revealed an array of jagged horizontal scars, wrapped nearly halfway around Will’s biceps, that paraded down almost to his elbow. “I listened to them, you know?”

Will sat down on the floor before Nico. He crossed his legs as he traced the pale scars that marred his skin. “I listened to those dark thoughts in my head. They said I was to blame for you leaving. They said I should kill myself because I cheated you of a home. They said that I deserved to be hurting for as long as I lived because of what I did to you…”

Will smiled ruefully at himself as Nico calmed down and took a moment to just take in the sight of Will. “I was stupid. I listened, and I cut myself too much. I cut myself too deep. By the end of it, I just didn’t have enough energy left to heal the wounds all the way, so, now I have to live with it. I have these.”

Nico looked like he was on the brink of tears. “Why?” was the only word that he could manage at that moment. He had suspected that in the three years he was gone, Will had taken to self-harming, but hearing it from Will himself made the idea seem so very _real_.

“Because I thought the dark thoughts were right.” Will sighed and buried his face in his hands. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep up the level-headed act, but he had to keep going. “I still do, actually,” he admitted.

“That’s not the point, though,” said Will. Before Nico could protest, he continued. “The point is that I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not worthy of someone. Of something. Because you were weak. Because you made poor decisions. Because you were, well, young and stupid.”

Nico smiled half-heartedly at Will. He certainly appreciated the son of Apollo trying his best to make this more comfortable. “Honestly, sometimes I still want to cut myself. Especially this morning, after I left, truth be told.” Will shook his head. “I’m not going to be over this for a very long time,” he said, gesturing at the scars on his arm; “Just like I know you’re not going to be over what Wyn did to you for a very long time. But we could at least try to work through it together, right?”

There was something so hopeful in Will’s voice that Nico couldn’t find it in himself to shake his head. He looked up and was surprised to see that Will had gotten so close without him panicking. “You ready?” said Will, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to Nico.

“Yeah,” said Nico, his mouth and throat suddenly dry. “I _think_ I am, at least,” he said, with yet another half-hearted smile. Before he got up from the ground, he looked at Will’s hand. He couldn’t bring himself to take it.

Nico squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself against the ground as he pushed himself to his feet. When he opened his eyes again, he saw a small relieved smile playing on the corners of Will’s lips. “At least we’re making some progress, right?” said Will.

The son of Apollo gestured in the direction of Nico’s bed. “Let’s go sit on the bed, okay?”

\----------

Piper was staring out the window, looking in the direction that Will had walked off after their little talk. She was still mulling over what she had just learned. She was worried about how long her compulsions would hold. More than that, she felt somewhat guilty for meddling, but she thought that it was the only way.

There was a brief flash of light from behind Piper, but she barely noticed it. It wasn’t until Aphrodite cleared her throat that Piper realized her mother had come to visit. “Oh,” said Piper, turning from where she was stood by the window

Piper looked at her mother with a puzzled glance. Aphrodite had been trying to be a better mother over the last couple of years, but she very rarely visited the cabin. “I didn’t see you there,” said Piper, “What are you doing here?” she said, before turning back to the window.

“I came by to ask you if you think what you did was right,” said the goddess. She placed a gentle hand on Piper’s shoulder and squeezed it in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

Piper brushed her mother’s hand off of her person. She whirled around and glared at Aphrodite. “Why?” she said, a surprising amount of venom dripping from her words. “So you could lord over me how much better you know love? How I was wrong and you know I was wrong because you’re love itself and you know it better than anyone else?”

Piper blushed when she realized she had just about yelled at her mother. She hadn’t meant to, but she was rather stressed. Between Drew and what she had just learned from Will, she had some aggression left in her she needed to take out on _something._

Aphrodite held her hands behind her back after she was rebuffed by her daughter. “You know,” she said, with a sympathetic smile that Piper could see in her reflection on the glass of the window. “It is never advisable to meddle in the love lives of others,” said Aphrodite.

“I know, mom,” said Piper, taking deep breaths to calm down. She looked away. “I still think that what I did was right,” she said, with a sigh. She had thought about it long and hard, but she knew that if she had not stepped in, it would likely have taken Nico and Will practically forever to resolve their problems.

As far as Piper was concerned, she wasn’t really meddling so much as she was pushing them gently in the right direction. It had taken them long enough to get back together. Knowing just what demigod life was like, Piper wanted the two of them to be happy as soon as they could be so that they could be happy for as long as possible.

“You might well be right,” admitted Aphrodite, walking over to the window. She leaned down beside Piper and looked out the window in the same direction that her daughter was looking.

“I don’t want to hear the but, mom,” said Piper, moving away from the window with a sigh. She faced her mother and frowned. “I don’t need you breathing down my back, telling me what love is and isn’t. I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do in the name of it.”

Aphrodite laughed. “Do you really think that even _I_ know exactly what love as strong as what those two boys have is?” she said. Piper had to admit that her mother looked far more beautiful when she was laughing like this.

“Love is one of the most powerful forces in the universe,” said Aphrodite, beaming as though she had just given herself a compliment. “It is also the most unpredictable,” she said, expression turning more somber. “It can be cruel. It can be kind. It can hurt like hell. It can also be the medicine that can cure _anything_.”

Aphrodite shook her head and reached across the distance between herself and her daughter. She took Piper’s hand in her own. “I’m not here to tell you that you did something wrong,” she said.

Aphrodite crossed the gap between her and Piper. She cupped her daughter’s chin with her fingers and gently turned Piper’s head up so they could look into each other’s eyes. “I came to see if you would stand by your decision and your beliefs.” Aphrodite smiled and tapped Piper’s cheek. “I’m glad you did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello there. :3. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I definitely enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Now, the question is whether I succeeded in what I set out to do. Did this chapter feel disjointed especially considering what had happened just a chapter ago? :3. Did the fluff, Nico and Will getting some progress done feel... uncomfortable for some bizarre reason that you just can't quite put a finger on? If your answer to those two questions is yes, then I have done my job. Also, the explanation will put things into perspective next week. :3.
> 
> Anyway, apart from that what do you think? Leave a kudos if you like the story! Leave a comment if you like me, because gods know I love reading your comments. :3.


	32. Let the Blind Lead the Blind

_“If I ever get my hands on that fuck—” Piper shook her head. She was trembling all over. Her fingers were drawn into fists that hung to either side of her. “—I will choke the breath out of him!” she screamed. The knuckles on her fists turned white from the viciousness of her grip. It was almost as though she was imagining_ strangling _Wyn herself._

_Piper leaned against the nearest wall and slammed the side of her hand against it. “Gods,” she whispered, in the strained silence that followed her outburst. She shook her head, blinking away the tears in the corners of her eyes._

_Piper was entirely at a loss for words after the shocking revelation that she had coerced from Will. “I sort of understand why you flew into a rage now,” said Piper, the tears in her eyes returning despite her best efforts to get rid of them._

_Piper shook her head. “No,” she said, looking right at the son of Apollo, who was still trying to recover from the extremely powerful compulsions Piper had placed on him. “I_ entirely _understand why you flew into a rage. I still can’t believe that Nico had to endure that…”_

_Piper choked back a sob. She had to maintain her composure, after all. At the very least, she had to be strong until she and Will got a plan together about how to help Nico._

_Piper had not_ seen _firsthand what had happened to Nico like Will, but even Will’s description had set her blood boiling in her veins. “I—” she still couldn’t quite come up with the right words to describe how she was feeling. Her heart was thundering in her chest and her ears. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” she said, to no one in particular._

_Will shook his head violently from side to side to clear it of the dregs of the compulsion that Piper had subjected him to. He had not realized that he had to be extremely careful around her. He was about as gay as he could be, attracted almost exclusively to Nico and Jason, but Piper’s charmspeak had still been powerful enough to overcome that._

_Will supposed that it was only a matter of time before Piper honed her abilities to that point. If the stories were to be believed after all, and Will believed them wholeheartedly, Piper had managed to put Gaea—the freaking earth herself—to sleep. “Why did you make me do that?” said Will, picking himself up off the floor to sit on Drew’s bed once again._

_“I did it so that I could understand the situation, Will! Since it didn’t seem like you were willing to give me anything to work with to help you!” Piper grimaced at the realization that she had been a bit more snappy and aggressive than she would have liked. The situation with Wyn had not done a thing to help her already-frayed words. Needless to say, she recoiled the moment she saw the hurt expression on Will’s face._

_Piper took a deep, shuddering breath. “I need a moment,” she said. Part of her wished that she had katoptris with her. Ever since Rachel and the Apollo kids lost the gift of prophecy, even the blade had been more or less useless. Still, it offered her a strange sort of comfort, just by being present._

_Piper walked over to the back of the cabin and just stood there, staring at it for a handful of seconds. She then began to pace back and forth, mulling over what she’d learned, and attempting to ground herself. To calm herself. She was well aware that being angry wouldn’t help the situation._

_It didn’t take Piper very long to return to Will’s side. She’d felt the son of Apollo’s eyes following her anxiously as she walked back and forth. She also didn’t want to leave him alone to bear the terrible knowledge that he now did for longer than necessary._

_Piper plopped down on the bed beside Will and smiled sympathetically. Though it was probably inappropriate to think so given the situation, Piper couldn’t help but inwardly grin with satisfaction that Drew’s bed was being sat upon by the “commonfolk” as Drew liked to call the other campers._

_Piper took a deep, shuddering breath and said “Wyn is not important.” Will looked at her as though she had grown a second head, and Piper could not blame him. She understood why. Personally, she was convinced that if anyone dared to tell her that the man that had abused one of her friends for three months was not important, would be sent away with a broken nose._

_There was a reason that the Spartans gave Aphrodite the epithet of Areia. Even Love itself, beautiful and gentle in the best of times, could become warlike and savage at the worst._

_Piper briefly buried her face in her hands. She was still in shock from the story Will had told her, though she was functioning better now. “No,” said Piper, her skin crawling with disdain at what he had to say, “Eirwyn Argall is_ not _important right now. He is an enemy that we can’t do anything about!”_

_“We can’t even_ get _to him, Will,” said Piper, reaching out to gently touch Will’s arm as Will shook his head and made as though to get up off the bed. “We don’t even know where he is other than ‘somewhere in Wales.’”_

_“No,” said Piper, her fingers wrapping around Will’s wrist to pull him back down onto the bed. He followed her, bonelessly. He was tired, after all. “He is not important right now, but I’m not saying that he won’t ever be important._

_Will whirled on Piper, his bright, sky-blue eyes flashing with anger. “I know you’re angry at me,” said Piper; “Gods… I can’t even begin to imagine what you must feel against Wyn, but I want one thing to be clear, Will: Nico is the most important person here.”_

_Piper locked eyes with Will when he tried to get away again. Will quailed in Piper’s intense gaze and let his shoulders slump forward. Piper reached up and squeezed Will’s arm in comfort. “Nico is clearly suffering from what he had to endure with Wyn, and we—well, more you while I’m working in the background—have to help_ Nico _first.”_

_Will shook his head and attempted for a third and final time to get away. He could recognize the truth and importance of what she was saying, but the part of him that thirsted for blood—Wyn’s blood, did not let him listen._

_Piper, however, was prepared. Her grip was strong, and Will was weakened by what had happened at the range. He sat back down with a huff when she pulled him back. “We can’t just go after Wyn because of this misguided thirst for vengeance, Will,” said Piper, shaking her head from side to side._

_A part of Piper didn’t want to believe what Will had told her, but Will had been under compulsion to not lie. “I want to put an arrow through his heart as much as I know you do, Will. Believe me. But you have to take care of Nico first.”_

_“I can’t do that!” said Will in an outburst that surprised both the demigods in the cabin. He banged his fist on the side of Drew’s bed, leaving a sizable dent in the frame that he couldn’t be bothered to apologize for._

_“I can’t just—” Will shook his head and choked back a sob. “Gods!” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I can’t just forget that Nico was violated for three fucking months by that… by that fucking monster!” he yelled._

_“No, you can’t…” said Piper, trailing off. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, their shifting hues glowed with power. Voice thundering through the cabin with power, Piper spoke, “ **But you will be able to put it aside. For now, and whenever needed**.”_

_Will’s eyes rolled back in his head as the compulsion crashed against him. He fell back on the bed, but Piper was there to catch him. Minutes later, as he was blinking the unconsciousness out of his eyes, he turned to Piper, looked into her eyes, and said, “I still don’t know what to do…”_

_“Well,” said Piper, rubbing Will’s arm up and down gently in soothing motions. “How are you treating Nico?” she said. She was well aware that the amount of charmspeak she was using on Will was bordering on dangerous, but nevertheless, she was convinced that this was what Will needed. Anything to help Nico._

_“I’ve been treating him like a good boyfriend should,” said Will, looking into Piper’s eyes. His expression was filled with confusion, and despair. He didn’t know how else to answer her question. It hurt Piper’s heart to see Will looking like a wounded puppy, but the way that Will spoke the words made Piper suspect that Will wasn’t being exactly forthcoming._

_“Maybe that’s the problem,” said Piper, looking into Will’s eyes in the brief moment that he looked away. “How have you approached trying to help him? What has been on your mind?”_

_From the look of it, Piper could tell that Will found her words soothing but uncomfortable all the same. She could only wonder why. Perhaps she was getting closer and closer to a truth that Will did not want to recognize. As painful as that might be for Will, Piper knew that she had to press on._

_Piper looked into Will’s eyes, but almost instantly, Will averted them. “Have you been thinking that you will fix what Will broke?” Piper felt Will tense under her fingers. “Have you been helping him because you want your boyfriend back instead of for the sake of helping him come to terms with what happened?”_

_Piper took a good long look at Will’s face, flushed red with what she could only assume was shame. She could see the denial written in the tight set of his face, but at the same time, she could see that he was struggling to accept that he was in the wrong._

_“It’s okay, Will,” said Piper, patting Will’s arm reassuringly. “It’s only natural to want to ‘fix’ someone you love when they’ve been broken by someone else. It’s only natural to want Nico back because you miss him, and you’ve_ pined _for him for three years…”_

_Piper’s words turned stern. “But I thought you of all people would have known better,” she said. Will looked at her, offense written on his face alongside shame because he knew Piper was speaking the truth. “You’re a healer. You should know better than anyone that your own feelings should never get in the way.”_

_“I know,” said Will, his shoulders slumping even further forward. Piper was right, without a doubt. In trying to help Nico through the trauma of what Nico had to endure at the hands of Wyn, Will had allowed his own feelings to muddy the waters. It simply was not going to work. “But I can’t distance myself from him…”_

_“ **You will** ,” said Piper, her charmspeak washing over Will, who staggered back. “ **You will go back to Nico, and you will treat him just like you would any other patient with a serious emotional problem**.”_

_“ **You will put aside your emotional investment. You will put aside your anger. Your sorrow. Your desire. You will treat him in the best way you see fit because this is not about you, but it is about him**.” Piper sagged against the bed. The effort of expending so much energy to charmspeak Will was beginning to get to her._

_“But—” said Will, his eyes darting around the cabin as though he was confused as to where Piper’s voice was emanating from._

_“ **While you’re in a session with Nico, he isn’t your boyfriend. He is your patient. I know you love him, but you will put those feelings aside. Be the person that he needs, not the person you want to be for him**.”_

_Piper gripped the nearest bedpost. She leaned her forehead against it. She was feeling faint. Lightheaded. She couldn’t afford to pass out. She clung to the bedpost as she waited for Will to come back from the momentary loss of consciousness her charmspeak had placed him in. When he woke up and blinked owlishly at her, she said, “Now, I have an idea…”_

\----------

“Make the room dark?” said Nico, expression incredulous. He was sure Will would understand why he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. His eyes kept drifting down to the gashes that paraded down the length of Will’s arm. “Why would I want to do that?” he said, concerned, “can’t we just wear blindfolds instead?”

A sympathetic smile turned the corners of Will’s lips. He could see that Nico was distracted by the scars of his self-harm, but he didn’t really have anything to cover the scars up with. Nevertheless, he didn’t think it would have been proper to hide them since he was asking for Nico’s trust. “Would you feel safe if we wore blindfolds?” he asked.

The question gave Nico pause. It had struck a chord. “No,” he said, having to admit his discomfort with the idea of being restrained in a room with only one other person in it. “No,” he said, “I won’t feel safe if we used blindfolds.”

Nico shivered. He looked away and rubbed his arms as though to warm himself even if the room was rather balmy. “He used blindfolds on me, too,” he said. Nico squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in disgust.

The false memories of his time with Wyn were still in Nico’s mind. They drifted along at the edges of his consciousness in many shattered pieces. They drifted in and out of his mind intermittently, never failing to remind him that something terrible had happened.

“See?” said Will, with a small, sympathetic smile that just barely touched the corners of his lips. Will had to fight the desire to reach across the distance between himself and Nico. He had to resist wanting to touch Nico’s hand in comfort.

There was a fury raging underneath the calm facade that Will was putting on, but thanks to Piper’s powerful compulsions, the anger was flung down. Piper had told him to put aside his fury and his emotional attachment to Nico. At first, he had been bitter and angry that Piper had used compulsions on him, but he had since realized that it had been necessary.

The idea that Piper had had was all about Nico, or at least, it was at the beginning. “I know you can see in the dark, but I can’t,” said Will, chuckling. Nico looked up at him as though he had gone crazy. “You’ll be perfectly safe. If there’s anyone that’s going to be taken by surprise here, it’s going to be me.”

Will’s fingers twitched as he fought down the urge to squeeze Nico’s hand. “It’s okay,” he said, the tiny smile returning to his lips. “I don’t mind being at your mercy.”

A concerned look shadowed Nico’s face, but Will had expected that to happen. “Don’t worry,” he said, again battling the desire to reach over to comfort Nico. “I trust you. Even after three years, I trust that you won’t hurt me no matter what.”

“But—” Nico wrung his hands in the air, searching for words that simply wouldn’t come to him.

“Nico,” said Will, before Nico could protest any further.  “Remember what we agreed to before, in the infirmary? A measure of trust for a measure of trust?” Slowly, Nico nodded, the memories of those three days still sharp in his mind. “That’s all I ask,” said Will.

Will took a deep breath and pressed his palms to his knees. His fingers wrapped around the bed. He was having trouble not initiating contact. “I want you to be able to trust me again, okay?” said Will. “For that to happen, you have to feel as safe as you possibly could.”

Nico opened his mouth to protest, but Will just talked over him. “I don’t mean to be rude, Nico,” said Will, as the son of Hades scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Just make sure that I can’t see a thing, if that’s what’s going to make you feel better.”

“Fine,” said Nico, brows furrowing in a deep frown. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Will putting so much trust in him. As it was, he couldn’t even trust himself to not lash out. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice, though. He had agreed to this, after all. “I’ll do it,” said Nico, steeling himself for what was to come, “Just… tell me when.”

Will smiled at Nico. Despite the anxious energy that thrummed in Nico’s body ever so slightly, the sight of the subtle twisting of Will’s lips, and the way the corners of Will’s eyes crinkled with his smile made Nico’s heart skip a beat. “Whenever you’re ready, Nico,” said Will.

Will spread his fingers on top of his knees and flexed them. “One more thing,” he said, looking almost bashfully into Nico’s dark eyes as Nico raised an eyebrow at him. “If you’re ready to touch my face, just, please, give me a little trust and close your eyes. Just as long as you’re touching me. It doesn’t have to be any longer than that. If that’s okay, that is?” said Will, voice tentative and uncertain.

Nico took a deep breath and felt the swell of power within him. He hadn’t eaten yet, so using these powers gnawed at his stomach. Needless to say, the darkness that hung about the room deepened, and the temperature of the air plummeted. “Okay,” he said, trying to feign confidence. He wasn’t sure how well this would work, but since Will seemed so confident in what Piper had suggested, he owed it to Will to at least try.

Nico reached out with his fingers, seemingly clawing at the very air itself. He was plying the new magic that he had learned under the tutelage of the Nameless One, new magic that he had to teach the Oracle. These days, other than shadow-travelling, he didn’t need to use his Underworld-ly powers, thanks to the Nameless One.

For the briefest of moments, a smile touched Nico’s lips. As fucked up as everything around them was, at least Will wouldn’t have to worry about him fading away any time soon.

Nico snapped his fingers shut and almost instantly, all of the shadows in the room fled into the tiny spaces in his clenched fists. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on what he wanted to happen. He opened his hands, pools of darkness swirling in his bare palms. Nico allowed his hands to paint the room in the kind of darkness that no light could penetrate.

Will looked around in wonder as the shadows seemed to follow the motions of Nico’s hands, shrouding the walls, blocking out the windows, and extinguishing the light wherever it was found. The last thing that Will saw was a stream of darkness that crept across the breadth of his vision. After that, he saw nothing.

“You can start whenever you want, Nico,” said Will, after a moment of silence passed. He had been trying to convince himself that he hadn’t actually died and gone to the underworld. The darkness was so absolute that it felt like he had been severed from the light of day entirely. “Today is all about trying to get you comfortable with just a little touching.”

Nico took a very deep, ragged breath. He looked at Will, and despite the pitch blackness of the room, he could see Will, almost outlined in a ghostly, ethereal light. Nico averted his gaze the moment he realized he was probably looking at Will’s soul. That was a bit too intimate for him.

Nico called for all the courage that was left in him, and all the strength of will that remained. He scooted across the edge of the bed closer to Will. An inch was all that he could manage.

Nico squeezed his eyes shut and gulped audibly as he attempted to reach across the space between himself and Will. He got so close that he could almost feel the warmth that Will radiated as a ghostly presence against the tip of his fingers, but at the last moment he hesitated.

Nico clenched his other hand into a tight fist—knuckles turning white from the viciousness of his grip—and forged on. He bridged the distance between the two of them, and touched the skin of Will’s cheek.

The moment that Nico touched Will, Wyn’s face manifested in his mind’s eye. It was a frightful visage, looming, gloating, reminding him of his weakness in giving in to the powerful seduction of the son of Eros. Nico recoiled in horror from Will, remembering that he had allowed the monster he saw in his mind’s eye to take advantage of him. Nico scrambled back with a strangled yelp.

“I-I can’t do this, Will!” said Nico, his back pressed almost painfully against the headboard of his bed. He was more scared now than he had been before, when Will had convinced him to try this out.

Nico forced his eyes open and even in the darkness, he could see that Will had not moved one inch from where he was sat. “It’s okay, Nico,” said Will, in the most encouraging and comforting voice he could muster. Will was trembling slightly from the electric current that had coursed through his entire body at Nico’s touch.

Will couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips as he brought his fingers to where Nico had touched him. Yes, Nico had fallen back in terror almost immediately, but the touch was still progress. Nico had touched Will out of his own free will and that was what was important.

“Just try again when you think you can,” said Will, gently, as the darkness around them dissolved. “Okay?”

\----------

“I can assure you, Lord Hades,” said the Nameless One, with a grin that was almost as savage as he looked—dressed in the garb of an Aztec god, one that made Hades’ head ache at the sight: Mictlantecuhtli.

There was amusement in the Nameless One’s voice, as though he knew exactly what form Hades saw him in at the moment. “There is no doubt. Someone, not too long from now, shall attempt to violate the laws of life and death.”

Hades looked at the ground pensively. He didn’t want to stare too long at the Nameless One, lest the sight of another god of the Underworld cripple him. “Is it my nephew?” said Hades, remembering the tragic tale of Apollo and Hyacinthus. He pressed his forefinger and his thumb to his temples.

When Hades raised his eyes and looked at the Nameless One, he saw the Nameless One in the clothing and visage of another god of death. He squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them again, the Nameless One was no longer Mictlantecuhtli, or the god that he’d taken the form of after, he was a far older manifestation of either: Ah Puch, the Mayan.

The Nameless One laughed in this form. Despite having lived in the Underworld for much of his millennia-long life, Hades found the sound discomfiting. The Nameless One’s laugh—as Ah Puch—sounded like the rattling of a million bones, echoing over and over and over again against the stones that stood around them.

“It is not your nephew” said the Nameless One, holding out a hand, now wearing the regalia of Osiris. “He is, however, in the vicinity. The Nameless One bared savage teeth to Hades, the sight both beautiful and terrible to him and his wife.

God and goddess looked at each other with hesitation. Reluctantly, Persephone took Hades’ hand and nodded at him to take the Nameless One’s. “Good,” said the strange god, “I was beginning to think I was going to have to _make_ you come with me.”

Magnificent wings of golden light unfurled from the Nameless One’s back. His face became beautiful beyond compare, resplendent as the dawn’s early light.  Hades had to wonder, for a moment, if the Nameless One had gotten confused.

Lucifer might have been the King of Hell, but the Morning Star was not a deity of the Underworld, much less a Lord of Death. Nevertheless, Hades could not say much, even if he wanted to. He felt the world pull away from underneath him as the Nameless One began to glow.

Indescribable brilliance flooded the underworld, leaving the creatures of the dark that dwelt in its somber halls cowering. They scurried for whatever dark corners remained. They did not have to hide for very long. Moments later, the light winked out, and in its wake, it left an empty garden at the heart of Hades’ palace.

When Hades and Persephone stepped out of the light, Hades had to lean against his wife for support. Travelling through the light was so antithetical to the way he normally travelled that he felt as though he was going to be sick.

The feeling passed rather quickly as Hades and Persephone looked around at the countryside that surrounded them. A sense of nostalgia, a comfort and a longing all the same, descended upon them. This was their homeland. This was where they had been born. This was the world that they had known all those years ago before it became clear that there was so much more out there.

Hades and Persephone were back home, in Greece. They looked at each other and couldn’t help but smile. The brief visit three years ago to fight the Giants had instilled a homesickness in them that they had not been able to get rid of until now.

Hades felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, startled. He had forgotten that the Nameless One was there. When he looked back, however, he did not see one of the many underworld deities of humanity. He saw himself, with a kindly smile and a wink.

“They are over there,” said the Nameless One, pointing to where Apollo was knelt before a patch of flowers, with Zephyrus’ arms and wings wrapped around him. It seemed, to Hades, that his nephew was weeping openly at the feet of the young man that stood in front of the two gods.

“Hyacinthus?” breathed Hades. Persephone and the Nameless One nodded. There was no doubt about it. There was no one else in the world that Apollo would so openly grieve for. “They are trying to bring him back?” he said, anger building in his soul.

“No,” said the Nameless One, holding Hades back from doing something stupid. “They will do something far greater than that.” Hades trembled. The laws of life and death were inviolable, whether it be for something greater than bringing a soul that should by all rights have been dead back to life.

Hades took a step forward, but the Nameless One took another himself. “Maria,” said the Nameless One simply, halting Hades in his tracks. “If you had the chance to bring her back, wouldn’t you?” Hades glared at the Nameless One, but his tears betrayed his answer.

“Do you really want to deny your nephew that chance?” said the Nameless One. “You’ve changed, young one,” he said, “You are no longer the cold and stoic Lord of the Underworld that you once were. Your heart has warmed. Perhaps it is best if you begin to repair your relationship with your nephew. For both your sakes, and the sakes of your children.”

\----------

Nico squeezed his eyes shut as he attempted to reach across the gap for Will. It was the fifth time since they had started, and Nico was pretty sure he was losing his grip on his sanity. Ever since the third attempt, he’d had a miniature Will sitting on his shoulder.

That small Will was telling Nico, repetitively, in perhaps the most annoying way possible, that third time was the charm. Nico supposed it was his subconscious’ way of distracting him from what he was about to do, but that didn’t change the fact that Nico wanted nothing more than to punch the miniature Will off of his shoulder.

Nico sighed and shook his head, only to freeze the moment after. His breath hitched in his throat as his fingers touched the skin of Will’s cheek. His skin crawled from the proximity, but the terror and the nausea that had accompanied the contact earlier were no longer there, or if they were, they were so weak that Nico could dismiss them.

Nico could hear the beating of his own heart get faster and faster with each moment that passed as he touched Will’s face. He wasn’t as afraid as before anymore.

Fifteen seconds was all that Will had told him he had to do. Fifteen seconds. Nico took a deep breath and began to count to fifteen under his breath. Will helped him. Counted along. It helped. There was a tentative smile playing on the corners of Nico’s lips as he scooted along the edge of the bed another inch.

Nico splayed his fingers on Will’s cheek, allowing his palm to touch the soft, supple flesh. It felt so good to touch Will. There truly was nothing that could compare to feeling the warmth radiate from Will. Fourteen. Fifteen.

Nico’s eyes snapped open and he snatched his hands back. The shadows that were around the two of them evaporated, letting the light flood back in. They both squinted, blinking in the sudden, nearly-blinding light. Needless to say, they were both over the moon about their accomplishment.

“I did it!” shouted Nico, startling Will with the force of his enthusiasm. Nico felt far more elated and powerful now than he had felt at any point over the last two days. He began to cry despite himself. He raised a hand to sky and flipped the bird at the ceiling. “Fuck you, Wyn,” he whispered, “I did it!”

Will rubbed his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the light that was now flooding into the room. He looked at Nico and the stupid grin that spread across the son of Hades’ face, from one ear to the next, and he couldn’t help but smile himself.

Will’s heart skipped a beat, and relief, happiness… emotions indescribable by words flooded his entire being. “You did it,” he said, softly, as the furtive smile playing on his lips grew and grew, eventually touching his bright blue eyes that had, all at once, regained their sparkle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was _amazing_ to write. It just... Aaah! That little scene at the end was my favourite thing. This is where all the shit that has gone down begins getting resolved in preparation for all the shit that's still to come, and I just absolutely _love_ it.
> 
> Remember when I told you that this little thing is going to have some of the happiest moments in the entire series? This is one of them, without a doubt. What follows is going to be relatively free of angst. I think it's about time I treat you guys to something pleasant before I rip your hearts out in about 3-5 chapters' time.
> 
> As always, leave a kudos if you like the story so far, and leave me a comment if you want to help boost my flagging motivation! I'm just having one of those times when I'm not really suffering from writer's block, but I am suffering from extreme lack of motivation to write, so, it would definitely help if you leave me comments! <3.
> 
> If you have any questions at all about where the story is headed from here, or any questions about the characters introduced thus far, or, even, questions _for_ introduced characters, feel free to drop them in my ask box over on [Malkuthe Highwind](http://malkuthehighwind.tumblr.com/ask)!


	33. Apotheosis

Apollo was knelt before the patch of white flowers that held all that remained of Hyacinthus’ mortal essence. The sun shone down from behind him, much higher now than it had been before the Nameless One saw fit to visit him. His head was hung, and his tears watered the earth, nourishing the roots of the flowers now just like they had the petals eons ago.

Though he had had hours to think about what to do after the Nameless One left, with time still frozen, Apollo still wasn’t sure releasing Hyacinthus was the best idea. When they had come to, the sun was much higher in the sky, and noon had already passed into afternoon in Greece.

Even hours of rumination and hours of preparation could not have helped Apollo on the duty that he had set out to do before he embarked on this journey: releasing Hyacinthus’ soul back to the Underworld, the domain of his uncle from whom he’d kept Hyacinthus, where it belonged.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” said Apollo, his shoulders shaking as much as they possibly could as more tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. Each one splashed against the earth, staining it darker.

“I don’t want to live with the knowledge that I might never see you again!” he screamed, at no one in particular. He was trembling. He was sobbing. It might have been ungodly, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t really a god anymore, was he? Apollo raised his eyes briefly and met Hyacinthus’.

The once-prince of Sparta knelt in front of Apollo. He placed his hand on the half-god’s shoulder and smiled as gently as he possibly could. He wanted to hold Apollo, but Zephyrus was already doing that—the half-god’s body wrapped in the West Wind’s strong embrace.

Instead, Hyacinthus stroked the side of Apollo’s face with the backs of his fingers, savouring the gentle softness of Apollo’s cheek. He pressed a kiss to the half-god’s forehead. “Don’t say that,” said Hyacinthus, feeling much the same grief that Apollo was, but not letting it show.

“Don’t say what?” said Apollo. As much as he hadn’t wanted it to, incredulity slipped into his voice. After all, it made him seem less sincere and genuine in his sorrow than he was. “It’s the truth, my prince,” he said, the term of endearment hanging in the air between them like a burning reminder of what they could not have.

Apollo was not beyond openly weeping in front of Hyacinthus. Not now. Not when this was about to happen. “Should you pass into Elysium, as I know that you deserve,” said Apollo, “I won’t see you again. This is how it has always been.”

Hyacinthus’ soft laughter was like music to Apollo’s ears “Don’t give up hope so easily, my light,” said Hyacinthus, with a gentle smile. “You have always been the god that never cared for how things have always been done, yes? You will find a way to come to me again. Both of you. Somehow.”

With those words, Hyacinthus pressed his lips against Apollo’s. There was simply no turning back now. The Nameless One had given him a warning, and a choice, but he didn’t see much of one in the matter.

Hyacinthus could have told Apollo to stop. He could have told Apollo to not send him to Elysium, but he would have been trapped in Amyklae for it was the land of his birth, and from what he knew of Apollo, Apollo would have trapped himself in Amyklae willingly as well, if it meant being with Hyacinthus.

As a Spartan, raised on duty and honour and sacrifice, Hyacinthus couldn’t, in good conscience, deny the Hellenes one of their most important gods. So instead, despite the Nameless One’s warning, he urged Apollo on. Surely, if Apollo found a way to rescue him from Elysium, what he’d been shown by the Nameless One would not come to pass.

Apollo caressed the nape of Hyacinthus’ neck with one hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips met and stayed together for as long as they possibly could. Apollo wanted to savour these last few moments before he finally released Hyacinthus like he had meant to from the beginning.

When the two of them parted, Hyacinthus smiled at Apollo with sympathy and a profound sadness. He looked at Zephyrus, who was weeping, as well, but quietly, tears blowing away in a miniature breeze.

Hyacinthus cradled Zephyrus’ face in between both of his palms, marvelling at the heat of the West Wind’s skin. He kissed Zephyrus as well, savouring the sweet taste of spring on the West Wind’s lips, just like he had the taste of bright, golden sunshine on Apollo’s.

“Know that I love you both,” said Hyacinthus, with a smile. He walked back to the patch of flowers and began to fade from view. “Even if you never come and find me, know that I forgive you. I understand. I might not be the best to answer the question, but perhaps some laws simply cannot be overturned.”

Apollo shook his head, refusing to look as the manifestation of Hyacinthus vanished, slipping back into the patch of flowers that was still growing merrily despite all the many thousands of years it had been alive. When he looked back up, Apollo saw nothing more than just the flowers that were the symbol of his ultimate failure.

In wanting to immortalize the memory of Hyacinthus, he had inadvertently cursed the poor boy to spending thousands of years as a flower, able to feel, somehow able to hear and see, but never able to interact with the world around him. Apollo couldn’t think of a fate much worse than that.

Apollo began to tremble once again, sobbing with all his might. He felt Zephyrus’ arms tighten around him, and though it was comforting, it didn’t help too much. Apollo clawed at the ground, leaving gouges in the moist earth. Much good it did him. It wasn’t going to help bring Hyacinthus back.

Apollo screamed in anguish after a moment. He reached for the flowers, wishing with all his might that he could somehow raise Hyacinthus from the dead. He couldn’t. Apollo turned to Zephyrus and buried his face in the West Wind’s chest, shaking from the grief that had overwhelmed him yet again now as it had so long ago.

Finally, Apollo managed to gather the strength that he needed to do what he knew was necessary. Zephyrus released him and stepped away as he began to glow. He called up the whispers of what remained of his divine might and cast his hands out toward the flowers, palms open and facing them.

The flowers began to glow with a faint golden sheen, much like Apollo’s own light. Truth be told, they had every right to do so. Apollo had, after all, relinquished a part of his godly essence to the flowers the day that he had pulled Hyacinthus away from death’s door.

Wisps of golden light rose from the soft petals of the flowers. Curling and winding, they streamed in Apollo’s direction, joining with the halo that surrounded him. As each wisp returned to its owner, one by one the flowers began to shrivel, die, and wither to dust. One by one, the pretty white things crumbled away like the ruins of Ancient Greece.

And yet, from the dust came something beautiful. Gleaming smoke, brilliant and radiant in every regard just like the morning sun, rose from the ashes of the flowers. At the heart of its swirling wisps and eddies stood a figure made of and robed in the same brilliance. One that smiled at Apollo with the same flirtatious not-so-innocent-innocence that it once had.

Apollo couldn’t help the small smile that danced on his lips. He waved back as a tear fell from his face. Another came when he felt the cold wind that accompanied Death itself draw near.

As the dust of the patch of flowers blew away in the wind, all that was left was the golden and radiant soul of Hyacinthus—touched by the sun and the West Wind both. He, Zephyrus, and Apollo waited with bated breath for Thanatos to come and take him, but instead, nothing happened.

“Thanatos,” said an oily voice from behind Apollo—the last voice that the half-god had ever expected to hear that day. “Stand down.” In the air behind the soul of Hyacinthus, a winged form both beautiful and terrible to behold shimmered into sight, eyebrow raised at its master. “Go,” said Hades, “I will take care of this myself.”

Apollo fell to his knees. Had Hades come to take his revenge? He was frozen in shock when he saw dark robes sweep into his field of vision. He did not dare look up, afraid of the cold fury that he was sure he would find in his uncle’s eyes.

Hades lowered himself onto his haunches and gently took Apollo’s chin. He tilted his nephew’s head up and looked him in the eyes. Eyes as gentle and blue as the heavens met eyes as dark and gloomy as the Underworld. Instead of the anger that Apollo had expected, though, what he saw was kindness.

What Apollo saw was sympathy. He almost scrambled back in terror at the sight. Those two things were simply not applicable to Hades himself. His dark and shadowy uncle who’d always thought him to be a pest. “You think me too cruel, nephew,” said Hades, with a smile that somehow managed to seem grim and sympathetic at the same time.

“I was visited, you see,” said Hades. “We were visited, I should say,” he said as he looked over to where Persephone was whispering something in Zephyrus’ ear. Apollo’s gaze followed Hades’ and he saw Persephone jerk her head off to the side to explain something to the West Wind.

Zephyrus and Apollo shared a confused and partly-terrified look. The West Wind leaned down and pressed a kiss to Apollo’s cheek before he walked away to follow Persephone.

“I did not come to take your love away,” said Hades, gently squeezing Apollo’s shoulder in a gesture that, frankly, Apollo did not know how to respond to. In the meantime, Hades took his other hand and mentioned for Hyacinthus to approach. Needless to say, the once-prince of Sparta was quite terrified.

No good Spartan was afraid of death, as death came with the life of a warrior, and yet, seeing Hades in person, the imposing ruler of the Underworld, cold and stoic, cruel and merciless to the wicked, was another matter entirely. To see Hades being so uncharacteristically warm to the man that Hyacinthus loved was almost too much for him. Numbly, he walked over to Hades and took the god’s hand.

“It was explained to me that there is an important choice that needs to be made today,” said Hades. He had, at first, bristled when the Nameless One suggested that he smooth over any differences with his nephew. He had spent his whole life upholding the laws of life and death, and yet, seeing the same sorrow in his nephew that he had had for Maria, Hades could not begrudge Apollo the chance to chase his own happiness.

Despite himself, Hyacinthus could not help but gasp. He had thought that the Nameless One was powerful, but it had only just dawned on him that the Nameless One was much more than that. Anyone that could manoeuvre the gods like pawns in some unfathomable game was nigh-inconceivable.

“I choose them,” said Hyacinthus without being asked. His voice was as soft and ghostly as a whisper on the wind, and yet both Hades and Apollo heard it. The words echoed in the very fabric of the world. “I would always choose them. Elysium means nothing to me if I can’t be with them,” said Hyacinthus, tears in his eyes for the first time since the Nameless One had let him go.

“Then your choice is made,” said Hades, looking at Hyacinthus with a strange smile and sense of pride in the once-prince of Sparta. “But you are not the only one that needs to make a choice today,” said Hades, nodding in the direction of Zephrus.

As one, Hyacinthus and Apollo looked at Zephyrus, who looked back at them with a grim expression. Persephone leaned in to whisper something in the god’s ear, and after a moment of tense silence, Zephyrus finally nodded.

Zephyrus walked back to where the three men had gathered. He looked each of them in the eye. Hades with guarded fear gratitude first, then Apollo with the purest kind of love, and finally, Hyacinthus. He looked at Hyacinthus with a sorrowful and apologetic look.

Before the once-prince of Sparta could say anything, Zephyrus grabbed him. They came together in a brilliant flash of light as Zephyrus began to unleash his true form on the countryside around them. “Forgive me,” he whispered, looking into Hyacinthus’ wide, fear-filled eyes. He pressed their lips together as he exploded with divine radiance brighter even than Apollo’s.

\----------

“Nico,” said Will, the name whispered to the darkness that shrouded him, that veiled his eyes from what was going on. He spoke softly, and gently, because he knew that Nico probably wouldn’t react very well to being aggressive.

Will could feel Nico’s open palms on his cheeks. They were surprisingly warm, but they were sweaty. It was no surprise, really. Nico’s hands had been on his face for the last three minutes, no matter how much distress Will could feel in Nico’s body, the son of Hades held on as though it was the difference between life and death.

Will could feel the sheer and raw terror that was coursing through Nico. He could feel it from the trembling of Nico’s fingers, the sweating of his palms, the tentativeness of the touch. “Nico, we don’t have to keep on trying,” he said, softly. “Today was all about just establishing you could touch me without freaking out.”

Will felt some of the tension in Nico’s arm subside, and he had to fight every instinct to breathe a sigh of relief. What happened next, however, was something that he had not expected to happen at all. Nico squeezed his cheeks.

“Shut. The fuck up. Solace,” hissed Nico, the words slipping through gritted teeth. He was trying his best because this was a breakthrough and he didn’t want to lose his momentum. Will certainly wasn’t helping out with his ‘take it slow’ bullshit. “I’m doing so well now, and you’re going to sit there and take it, because _fuck Wyn_.”

The sharp intake of breath that came from Nico at that moment betrayed the fact that he wasn’t doing as well as he was making it seem he was. Will could tell that Nico almost pulled his hands away, but the son of Hades persevered and kept them on Will’s face.

Truth be told, Will couldn’t decide whether to be proud of Nico, for being able to endure what he could only imagine was the extreme discomfort of touching Will in the dark, or concerned, because Nico was trying so very, _very_ hard.

Nevertheless, Will tried to stay as still as he possibly could. He knew well enough that Nico was struggling to keep things up, but was still managing to somehow hold on. He was afraid that if he made any sudden movements now, at this critical junction, everything that they had accomplished thus far would be ruined.

A few tense minutes passed in silence. Nico’s trembling became worse and worse as time went on, but Will couldn’t do anything about it. As much as he wanted to pull away to give the son of Hades some reprieve, he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to risk ruining everything.

When finally, Nico removed his hands from Will’s face, the darkness that surrounded the two of them dissolved. Will blinked in the bright sunlight that flooded the room, but he adjusted much faster than Nico did.

Will looked at Nico. He frowned when he saw the beads of sweat on Nico’s forehead, the shaking of Nico’s hands, the heavy breathing. It wasn’t a good sign, but when Nico was done squinting in the bright morning light, he looked at Will and grinned.

“I did it, Will!” said the son of Hades. Will was honestly shocked by the big, toothy grin that was plastered on Nico’s face. As bad as Nico looked at the moment, there was no denying that he looked ridiculously happy about what he had just managed to do.

Impulsively, Nico reached across the distance between himself and Will. His hand wandered without his direction to take Will’s. He squeezed Will’s hand and repeated himself. “Will! I did it! I touched you!” The sentence gave Nico pause. He had learned numerous innuendos in the three years he spent away from camp and couldn’t help but blush when he realized he had inadvertently used one of them.

“N-not in that way!” said Nico, the red that coloured his cheeks travelling up to the very tips of his ears. “Will!” he said. The son of Apollo was still rather frozen in shock, looking down with wide eyes at Nico’s hand squeezing his own.

“Will, are you even listening to m—!” Nico hadn’t even known he was still capable of making high-pitched sounds like the squeak he made the moment he realized just what Will was looking at.

Nico so badly expected to have an attack when he looked at his own hand wrapped around Will’s that he began to hyperventilate. It took a few tense moments of silence before Nico realized that he wasn’t having an attack, and he was just being paranoid. He looked in wonder at the way he was holding Will’s hand only to begin grinning a heartbeat later.

When instead of recoiling like Will had expected him to, Nico instead smiled, Will was taken completely off-guard. Nico squeezed his hand almost painfully and waved it in front of his face. “Look!” said Nico, brimming with the kind of enthusiastic energy that Will had not expected to ever see from Nico, “This isn’t making me uncomfortable!” he said.

“I can see that,” said Will. He had to admit that the happiness radiating from Nico was infectious. For an almost-catastrophic moment, Piper’s compulsions lost their hold on Will and he tried to take Nico’s other hand in his own free one.

Will immediately regretted what he did. No sooner had he even _tried_ than Nico scrambled to the other side of the bed, as far away from him as possible. “Fuck,” said Nico, trying to calm himself by breathing slower, heart thundering in his chest.

“I don’t think I can handle you initiating things yet,” said Nico, burying his face in his hands. He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He stayed there for a few moments before looking up at Will with a sheepish, apologetic look on his already-strained face.

“I’m sorry, Will,” said Nico. He was glad that he had accomplished so much today, but he couldn’t help but feel somewhat intimidated by how much more he still had left to do. “I just wish this could go faster…” he whispered under his breath. If Will heard what he said, the son of Apollo didn’t say anything about it.

“It’s okay” said Will, with a gentle smile. He took back his hand, placed it on his lap, and glared at it as though it had acted on its own and did something against his will. “These things take time, Nico,” he said, “You made a lot of progress today, though. That’s what’s important, right?”

Nico looked at Will. A smile played at the corners of his lips, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. Earlier that day he had thought he would have to deal with his fear of Wyn and intimate contact for the rest of his life, but now, he knew that there was hope.

Truth be told, Nico didn’t know words that were enough to express how thankful he was that Will didn’t give up on him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking just the slightest bit from the emotions that were raging through him.

Nico’s heart skipped a beat as the smile on Will’s face widened. The smile seemed to brighten him. Will didn’t look nearly as gaunt and weary now as he had just moments ago. His eyes, dulled from years of pain, were filled with new life. He seemed to glow, some of the light he lost restored to him by what they had just done.

It was at that moment that Nico realized that whatever it was he and Will were doing was something that they _both_ needed. “So,” said Will, the smile widening even more into a grin that could rival one of Percy’s, “What do you say about going to celebrate with some food?”

“I’ve been told you like McDonald’s,” said Will, scratching the back of his head as though embarrassed to admit that he knew that little tidbit. “Why don’t you shadow-travel us out of here to grab a bite?”

“Who told you that?” said Nico, eyes narrowing at Will. He _liked_ McDonald’s but it surely wasn’t the place he would go first if he wanted to celebrate. “Was it Jackson?” said Nico. Will nodded sheepishly.

Nico sighed. “I swear to Hades!” he exclaimed, burying his face in his hands as his ears and face coloured red. “It was _one_ time!”

“So,” said Will, tilting his head quizzically at Nico, “You’re saying you _don’t_ want to go and grab some McDonald’s?”

Nico shook his head vehemently from side to side. Now that he’d had the chance to think about it, and especially after last night’s surprisingly-healthy food, he was in the mood for something greasy and generally terrible for him. In fact, he was surprised that Will wasn’t viciously opposed to going to McDonald’s.

“No!” said Nico; “I didn’t say that. But why not eat at the camp instead?”

Will looked at Nico rather sheepishly. “I may have been banned from the grounds for the next three days.” Nico’s eyes widened. Will? The perfect counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Banned from the camp for three days? “I promise I’ll tell you why later. But, McDonald’s?”

Nico just rolled his eyes and nodded.

\----------

Was it cowardly of Apollo to duck for cover the moment he saw Zephyrus begin to unleash his full divinity? Perhaps. He was half-god, but he was also half-mortal, and he had no idea what would happen to him if his mortal half died.

It did not help very much. The blistering radiance from Zephyrus still blinded Apollo. It was something that he had not expected to happen, truth be told. The last time that a god’s true form was revealed was during the war with Gaea at the House of Wolves, when Hera unleashed her divinity.

Apollo had to admit, however, that compared to most other gods that he’d encountered over the many years of his life, Zephyrus’ Glory was not as caustic. In fact, Zephyrus’ light was downright gentle; it was warm like a spring breeze.

Even if Zephyrus’ divinity was calmer than others’, it still carried enough power to cross damage. It made the skin of Apollo’s mortal half sizzle in the heat that was intensifying with each passing moment. Apollo was certain that when he opened his eyes, the surrounding land would be scorched, burned clean of any life.

For the brief length of time that Zephyrus unleashed the power of his divinity, Apollo screamed in agony. His mortal half was being scorched by the brilliant light whilst his godly half could do nothing to shield himself. His powers were somehow being suppressed by whatever it was that Zephyrus was doing.

Eventually, the light faded and Apollo staggered forward, falling flat on his face on the cool earth. He had since lost sensation in his mortal half, third-degree burns covering his skin. With all the strength that he had left, Apollo craned his neck and looked at what had happened between Zephyrus and Hyacinthus. What he saw made his jaw drop in astonishment.

It was Hyacinthus in the flesh, glowing faintly with the light of borrowed divinity. Tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, but neither of them were saltwater. From one eye dripped blood, and from the other, golden ichor. The once-prince of Sparta was being cradled in the arms of Zephyrus, who was swaying unsteadily from side to side.

Apollo howled in pain as energy surged through his body. He staggered to his feet, healing himself as he went with pulses of light that soothed the third-degree burns on his skin. It was an agonizing process, but he needed to do it. Zephyrus looked like he was about to pitch over, and Apollo wanted to catch the two men that had captured his heart. He was not going to let them fall.

Apollo caught them just in time. He heard a sickening crack as one of Zephyrus’ wings broke—he’d been too late to prevent that. Frantic with worry, Apollo used what remained of his godly powers to see what had happened with the two.

Apollo poured his entire being into the work that he was doing for the two men. He gently lowered them to the ground, concerned because their eyelids were closed, but their eyes darted about. Their breathing was laboured and came in shuddering gasps.

“What did they do?” said Apollo, turning to face Hades with tears in his eyes as he sent waves of his healing power through Zephyrus to fix the broken wing and to find what else was wrong with the West Wind. Before Apollo even finished speaking, he already knew the answer. Both Zephyrus and Hyacinthus were now half-gods like him.

Hades was trembling from the sight that he had witnessed. He had no answer for Apollo, who had not been able to see the transfer of essence that had happened between Zephyrus and Hyacinthus. Half of Zephyrus’ divinity was torn out of him and given to the once-prince of Sparta. Half of Hyacinthus’ mortality was stripped from him and forced onto Zephyrus.

“What they did,” said a voice from behind Apollo, joined by countless millions, if not billions of other voices whispering in the background, in tandem with it, “is sacrifice of the most valiant kind.”

Apollo, Hades, and Persephone turned to face the Nameless One. Each of them was met with surprise when instead of the imposing deity that they had expected, the man that faced them seemed no older than Apollo’s current form.

What faced the deities was the form of a young Welshman, with sharp green eyes, wearing a gray cardigan, a pastel-blue shirt, and form-fitting pants. The Nameless One looked at all three of them with a smirk. He wanted them to remember the form that he was wearing for it was one that they would have to deal with a lot soon enough.

“This kind of sacrifice is what each and every one of you gods and goddesses of Olympus will have to make in the days to come lest you fade into oblivion,” said the Nameless One, an ominous undertone to the voice that sounded so alien coming from the mouth of the young Welshman whose visage he’d taken.

“So,” said the Nameless One, with a wide grin on his face. He clapped his hands enthusiastically and stretched them in front of his body, “Time for a gift for the three half-gods.”

The Nameless One clenched his fingers and instantly, Apollo collapsed on top of Zephyrus and Hyacinthus, writhing, screaming, convulsing in the pure agony that lanced through his entire being—divine and mortal sides both. Hades and Persephone looked at Apollo in horror, but when they ran towards the Nameless One to attack him, they were blown back by a force far stronger than either of them.

Apollo’s screams were joined by Hyacinthus’ and Zephyrus’ as the two other half-gods’ eyes snapped open. Their bodies locked up, and their godly halves began to glow with the brilliance of their divinity.

The Nameless One was rearranging whatever divinity the three had in their bodies. He raked his fingers through the air and the godly essence in the three took on a different form. Lines, stripes, and ornate patterns curled around the contours of their flesh.

The process was a long and painful one. The Nameless One did not find it pleasant in any regard, but he knew without doubt that it was necessary. As Apollo had demonstrated earlier, significant injury to half of his body was enough to cripple him. What the Nameless One was doing was giving the three the constitution to endure the trials that were yet to come.

\----------

“I hate this fucking place,” hissed Wyn under his voice. He glared at the man that was seated across from him in the booth. Why did the Nameless One have to insist on taking him to this godsforsaken McDonald’s?

It wasn’t like he had had much of a choice. Even with his most powerful spells to drive away gods and spirits, Wyn had been unable to thwart the Nameless One. He’d tried when the fucker had shown up at the door to his hotel, but the god had just laughed in his face and dragged him out.

As much as Wyn despised having to admit to defeat, the Nameless One had already proven himself to be _far_ beyond his league.

“Why did we even have to come here?” said Wyn, sniffing with disdain; “The smell of this place sickens me.”

The Nameless One raised an eyebrow at Wyn and shrugged. The Nameless One picked up the Big Mac that he’d conjured up for himself and crammed it into his mouth. He bit down, the burger juice and grease dripping down the side of his chin onto a small stack of paper towels. “ _You_ sicken me,” said Wyn.

The Nameless One took his precious time chewing before he swallowed. “Now, now,” said the god with a vicious smile. “Is that really the way to talk to the person that just led you to where your precious son of Hades is going to show up?”

The mere mention of Nico froze Wyn where he sat. He looked around frantically in the restaurant, but he could not see the characteristic mop of jet-black hair. “Calm down,” said the Nameless One; “He hasn’t arrived just yet. He should be here in about four seconds, though.”

Wyn counted the seconds with bated breath. He wasn’t confident in the Nameless One’s ability to predict the future, and sure enough, four seconds later, Nico still hadn’t arrived. Wyn opened his mouth to say something snarky, but at that moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of four demigods walk out of the shadow of a nearby building.

Nico was with them, wearing what seemed like a tattered leather cloak. As soon as they emerged, Nico collapsed against a tall blond, handsome, blue-eyed, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

There was another blond there, blue-eyed, not quite as handsome, rather tall but in a lanky way, standing awkwardly to the side with a curly-haired, dark-skinned girl who had a fist on her hips and seemed to be yelling something at the other blond while rubbing Nico’s shoulder.

“Who are they?” said Wyn, keeping the small group in his peripheral vision as they entered the premises.

“The wimpy one is Will Solace. He’s the camp healer. Nico’s friend. Nothing really special.” The Nameless One pointedly looked at the group of four as they walked up to the counter. He wasn’t too concerned about Nico recognizing him. As far as Nico was concerned, he would just be another patron of the fast food restaurant.

“The other, Roman-looking blond?” said the Nameless One just as Wyn was about to ask. “Well, he looks Roman because he _is_ Roman. That’s Jason Grace. Ex-praetor, and _pontifex maximus_ of the Twelfth Legion fulminata. That’s the man you want.”

Wyn tried to get up from his seat, anger burning in his veins. He thought about using his powers then and there to drag Nico back to his side, but the Nameless One got in his way. “I know you have a plan to get him back. Don’t waste it. The girl is a daughter of Pluto. She is Nico’s half-sister. She is a master of the Veil, and it would do you well to not cross her.”

Wyn glared at the Nameless One and sat back down. The god was right. If there was ever a time for him to show restraint from acting out of impulse, it was now. “They will sit on that table over there,” said the Nameless One, jerking his head toward a table behind and to the right of them, directly in Wyn’s line of sight. “It’s just within the range of your powers, and I’m sure you can ensnare the Roman just like you wanted.”

The two waited for a few minutes. The service was apparently dreadful. They waited until finally, the group sat down at the table. The girl and the wimpy blond sat on one side, their backs toward Wyn. Nico and the Roman—Jason—sat on the other side, facing Wyn.

Hatred burned bright in Wyn at the sight of Jason handing Nico his food. It should have been him doing that. “When should I str—” Wyn turned his head to look at the Nameless One, but the god was gone.

Wyn shook his head. The god was annoying in more ways than one. Moments later, as he was watching the group chattering away, the Roman looked up. Sharp green eyes met electric blue ones, and in the heartbeat that they held each other’s gazes, Wyn lashed out with his powers.

Jason sputtered, blushed, and stared at Wyn for a few more seconds before looking away. Wyn picked up his things and walked out of the McDonald’s—the smile on his face savage. That had been far easier than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I _loved_ writing this chapter. So much shit is happening, and all of it is completely relevant to the plot! Ohmygawh! I hope you liked this chapter as much as I did because holy crap, the train that started chugging a few chapters back is beginning to pick up a lot of speed.
> 
> So, here we go. I would like to know what you think about: Zephyrus' sacrifice, Hyacinthus' choice, what the Nameless One appeared to Apollo, Hades, and Persephone as, why he led Wyn to the McDonald's that Nico was going to be, why he stopped Wyn from just taking Nico back, and finally, what's going to happen to Jason now? :3.
> 
> WOOT. Anyway. As per usual, leave a kudos if you haven't already, and leave a comment if you want to make me happy. <3\. I would love to read your thoughts. :D.


	34. Everyone

Hades—prideful as he was—couldn’t help but admit to himself that he was concerned about the seemingly-intertwined fates of his nephew, Zephyrus, and Hyacinthus. This became abundantly clear when the Nameless One’s expression turned from amused, to strained, to grim. Admittedly, there was a part of Hades that had to wonder if it was just an act.

The Nameless One clawed at the empty air, like he had numerous times before, but this time, Hades saw something _else_ happen. Streamers of golden-silver mist pooled around the Nameless One’s fingers, and reality itself seemed to tear apart where they went, only to be reformed by the strange mist that the Nameless One was wielding.

Hades looked away, grimacing as the splitting headache that he had expected to come hit him with the force of a brick wall. He suspected the Nameless One was working magic of foreign gods, but he couldn’t be sure.

Hades shivered when he felt a tendril of consciousness prodding at his mental defenses, slipping through the walls he’d built over the countless years of his life like a hot knife would cut through butter. It was, needless to say, an unnerving experience for one of the eldest gods in the Greek pantheon.

The tendril did not communicate in concrete thoughts, but Hades didn’t need those to understand. Hades was almost certain that it was the Nameless One trying to communicate while in the middle of doing something incredibly taxing. Nevertheless, the tendril reassured him that there was no need to worry about what he had just seen.

The tendril of thought that had wormed its way into Hades’ mind revealed to him that there were limitations to being a god of a single people. Because he was a god of Greece, he could only see the world as a god of Greece, and bending reality itself, the reality that existed beyond the Mist, was out of the question.

Hades shook his head to clear it as the tendril retreated. Even Hecate herself could only bend the Mist to her will to guide the thoughts of gods and mortals alike. She couldn’t change reality as it existed outside of the many layers of the world. It begged the question, then, as Hades watched the strange god do his work, why could the Nameless One?

Hades did not have much time to ponder the question, though it wasn’t surprising anymore. When it came to the Nameless One, circumstances seemed to assert themselves to prevent him from thinking on anything for too long.

Hades’ attention was grabbed the the sudden groan of agony from Apollo. He looked down and saw that Apollo’s eyes were slightly open. He realized, in horror, that Apollo had been conscious this whole time.

Apollo writhed in pain where he lay as curling streamers and tendrils of steam and smoke rose from his body. They danced in the air, their elegance hidden by the pained moans from Apollo, whose skin was glistening with the sheen of a layer of sweat.

The Nameless One clenched his fingers in a fist so vicious that Hades could see golden ichor flowing down the eldritch god’s arms. Apollo’s eyes snapped open and he screamed, light pouring from his open mouth as he very nearly rose off the ground, back arching so extremely Hades was concerned Apollo’s spine might snap.

The Nameless One held Apollo in that position for what seemed to be an eternity, the light dying down to a faint glow, before he finally let go and allowed Apollo to slip fully into the comforting arms of unconsciousness.

Hades looked at the three new half-gods, perturbed by the way that their sleeping breaths began to fall into perfect synchrony. “They are connected in ways that perhaps even you _cannot_ fathom,” said the Nameless One, the grim expression on his face wiped away by the small smile that tugged on the corners of his lips.

The Nameless One took three steps back from the calmly-sleeping heap of half-gods in front of him. He flourished his wrist with a twist as a digital watch—nothing too fancy—appeared there. He looked at the time and smiled. “Ah!” he said; “Finished just in time for the grand finale!” he said.

“Fates!” said Hades, in exasperation. He frowned at the Nameless One. “What do you mean by that, now?” he demanded, entirely oblivious to the way that the clouds above him began to turn dark and ominous, burdened by paranoia and anger.

The hairs on the nape of Hades’ neck stood on end. He could smell the telltale signature of Zeus’ wrath on the air—the smell of ozone. Static electricity crackled all around him, so much so that when Hades touched the bronze clasp of his robe, a spark leaped from the metal to his finger.

A bolt of lightning streaked across the underside of the clouds, fanning out to cover the entire sky with a flashing display of Zeus’ power. “Zeus!” hissed Hades under his breath as he felt the entire world go still. A mighty clap of thunder nearly flattened everything a mile away from where Hades stood, raising a tempestuous wind that howled in his ears.

Without thinking, relying on the same instinct with which he had saved Bianca and Nico all those years ago, Hades jumped on top of Apollo, Zephyrus, and Hyacinthus.

The heavens split apart as Zeus hurled down a brilliant, radiant bolt of lightning, nearly three times larger than Hades was in this form. The entire world seemed to slow as the bolt of lightning roared down from the sky. Hades could do very little but to hold out his hand to stop it.

The Nameless One stood unflappable in the mighty shockwave that followed the lightning bolt’s collision with the dome of shadows that Hades had managed to erect at the last moment. Persephone, on the other hand, was flung away nearly sixty feet.

The lightning bolt broke against the dome of shadows, and whatever remained of it crackled in the air. It rose from the entire surface of Hades’ protective shield, scattering into the air like countless miniature lightning bolts, each holding only an insignificant fraction of the power that the initial bolt had had.

Momentarily blinded by the radiance of the lightning, Hades stumbled backward and sank to his knees. He blinked, trying to re-adjust his vision, only to look up at the sky when he had finally managed. He was about to speak some choice words to his brother when Persephone stepped over him, blocking his way.

Persephone hiked up the folds of her dress, and, in a way that Hades had never seen her do before, flipped up both her middle finger in the direction that the lightning bolt had come from. “Fucker!” she yelled, surprising Hades once more with the profanity and sheer anger in her voice.

“You would attack _your own son_ when he is at his most defenseless?” Persephone thrust her middle fingers forward at the clouds and bared her teeth. “Why not wait for when he’s wide awake and fight him then? Are you such a coward? Has your fear turned you into a simple-headed fool?”

Persephone spat at the ground next to her. “If it were not for you and this irrational fear of yours, we gods and goddesses would not be having all this trouble!” she screamed. Hades was, frankly, both proud and terrified of his wife at the moment.

As much as Hades despised Zeus being king of Olympus—he recognized that it was an all-around bad idea—he probably would not have thought it wise to say such things to his bother. He would probably have exercised some restraint. Persephone on the other hand, did not seem to have the same reticence.

“Perhaps your fears are right. Perhaps you need to be cast down from your throne for the betterment of all of Greece!” said Persephone. Another bolt of lightning came crashing down from the heavens, but Persephone deflected it with a flick of her hands, the bolt creating a patch of flowers on the ground where she struck it.

“Fuck your lightning bolts, _father!_ ” said Persephone, spitting the word ‘father’ with such disdain Hades wouldn’t have been surprised if she had meant something less pleasant. “You would strike at _me?_ You truly are a coward—and a fool.”

 Hades clambered to his feet as the skies rumbled with anger. Moments later, the clouds moved away, and Hades felt the presence of Zeus dissipate with them. The Nameless One appeared behind Hades and Persephone, clapping his hands in amusement. “Impressive,” said the Nameless One with a laugh; “The day may yet come when you will no longer be able to hate your father.”

Persephone whirled around where she stood to face the Nameless One—eyebrow raised to ask the obvious question. “But,” said the Nameless One, a smile quirking the corners of his lips; “Another day may yet come when you will hate him with the burning passion of a thousand suns—and rip him limb from limb yourself.”

The words seemed to strike Persephone physically. She staggered back, but fortunately, Hades was there to catch her, like he always was for her, and she was for him.

Persephone looked up at Hades gratefully, stroking his surprisingly warm and gentle arms before looking back at the Nameless One in guarded horror. Hades wasn’t sure what to think of Persephone’s fear. Was she afraid of killing Zeus? Truth be told, after what had happened, Hades would not have minded.

The far more impressive possibility, as far as Hades was concerned, at least, was that Persephone had somehow extracted one of her fantasies—killing Zeus herself—from her consciousness. Hades decided not to ask, unwilling to seem rather insensitive and psychopathic, but he decided that no matter what, he would believe in the second possibility as killing Zeus was something he, himself, had fantasized about more than once in the past.

“By the Fates,” said Hades, shaking his head at the Nameless One. “Do you not ever stop speaking in riddles? What do you mean?”

The Nameless One laughed, the sound surprisingly musical to both Hades and Persephone, despite the discord of the countless voices in the background. “Now, where’s the fun in being straightforward?” said the Nameless One, a genuine smile on his face this time.

“I could tell you the many winding paths of the Fates’ design, but it’s much better entertainment to watch you all, mortal and god alike, figure out where to go. As for whether Persephone will kill Zeus herself comes down to the choice that Apollo will one day make at the Omphalos of Gaea.”

“Now,” said the Nameless One, brushing his hands against each other. He turned away from the two gods only to reappear on Hades’ left side. “I have somewhere else to be. Fully, that is, and not just as a projection of my consciousness as I am before the two of you.”

Hades and Persephone looked at each other in disbelief. They were in the presence of a mere _projection_ of the Nameless One’s consciousness? They thought he was powerful, but now more than ever, it scared both of them that the power they had felt radiating from him, already far beyond both of them combined, was only a fraction of the real thing.

The Nameless One laughed at the expressions on Hades’ and Persephone’s faces. “Why, thank you,” he said, pretending to be flattered by their unease to at his presence. “Needless to say,” said the Nameless One; “Would you two be dears and take these three home? I have a game to play with an old, _old_ rival of mine.”

“Where are you going?” said Hades, protectively reaching for Persephone’s hand.

“Sumeria!” said the Nameless One gleefully. Hades had not thought the eldritch deity capable of glee.

Hades frowned at the word. Sumeria was a civilization of the past. Did the Nameless One perhaps mean Asia? “No, no,” said the Nameless One, plucking the question right out of Hades’ mind as though it were the easiest thing to do; “I’m going to a different realm of reality where history has been frozen in the time of the Sumerian civilization.”

“I haven’t visited Ur in some time. Anyway, toodle-loo!”

\----------

Nico let out an uncharacteristic belch when he walked out of the shadows into the living room of his side of the apartment. He patted his stomach with his one free hand and looked around, only to find his companions looking at him as though he had gone insane.

Even Hazel, a child of the Underworld, who had shadow-travelled a number of times without a problem prior to now, was looking somewhat green after the journey through the darkness after eating.

It did not take too long for everyone to recover. Will took a little bit longer than everyone else; he had been on the brink of throwing up all over the carpet. Will shook his head and straightened where he stood before raising an eyebrow at Nico.

Nico clutched his take-out to his chest defensively. The brown paper bag and golden arches left no doubt as to what the bag contained. “What?” said Nico, rather testily, as he tried to hide his bag in a futile attempt to divert attention from it.

Hazel walked over to stand beside Will and raised her own eyebrow at him. “What?” said Nico, a blush creeping into his cheeks; “This doesn’t prove anything!” Nico hurriedly placed the bag on the couch behind him. “I don’t particularly like McDonald’s! I told you guys, I was just hungry because of what Will made me do!”

Will and Hazel looked at each other before turning to Nico and rolling their eyes in perfect synchrony. The same thing happened when they pressed their fists to their hips and tilted their heads at Nico. “…Okay,” said Nico, taking a step back, only to trip and fall on the couch—thankfully not on his food.

“That is creepy,” said Nico, turning away from his boyfriend and his half-sister. He looked at Jason. “Jason!” he said, “back me up here!” The redness on Nico’s cheeks crept up to the very tips of his ears. He didn’t get a response.

Nico, Will, and Hazel all looked at Jason, who seemed to be completely distracted. Jason was looking at a faraway point, a blush staining his cheeks much like Nico. Nico didn’t dare look down because he was sure he would find a rather prominent bulge in Jason’s pants. “Jason, are you okay?” said Nico, jabbing his elbow into Jason’s side.

“Ow!” said Jason. He jumped in surprise. It was almost as though he had forgotten that there were other people in the room with him. In fact, he looked around somewhat confused, slowly slipping back into his daydream until Hazel walked over and stomped on his foot.

Jason howled in pain, hopping up and down on one leg as Hazel glared at him. He banged his knee against the coffee table and nearly pitched forward, but fortunately, Will was there to keep him from hurting himself too much.

“Sorry,” said Jason, looking sheepishly at everyone around him. “Actually, no I’m not okay,” he said. Jason turned to Nico and smiled apologetically. “I feel somewhat guilty. Honestly, I saw one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen at that McDonald’s…”

Jason fell back onto the couch beside Nico, the bag of food between them. He hid his face with his hands and groaned. His ears turned red as he did. “I might or might not be developing a little bit of a crush on the guy,” said Jason.

Nico couldn’t help the sound of surprise that escaped him. Before he could say anything, though, Will dropped onto the couch beside Jason and looked over at the son of Jupiter. “Judging from the amount of blood on your face and the amount of daydreaming you’ve been doing, Jason,” said Will, with a smirk; “I highly doubt that you’re just developing a _little_ crush.”

Nico leaned forward and looked at Will, eyebrow raised. Will shrugged. They both knew it was true; Jason had been somewhat out of it since they left the McDonald’s.

Nico wasn’t sure if Jason had been distracted while they were eating. He didn’t really remember talking to Jason, which was a surprise considering he was telling Will and Hazel all about the wonderful time he’d had over in India about two years past. Of course, after he reassured Will that he hadn’t started fading because he shadow-travelled to India.

“You know you don’t have to feel guilty about anything, right, Jason?” said Nico, tentatively reaching out to touch Jason’s nearest shoulder. “Just because you said you wanted to be a part of our relationship doesn’t mean that you’ve already committed fully to it.”

Jason sighed and nodded, but he didn’t say anything more.

In the silence that followed, Hazel decided to sit down, like the boys were doing. She chose to take the loveseat, not sure what would set Nico off, and not wanting to find out accidentally. “So, Jason,” she said, with a gentle smile. “Tell us what he looks like!”

“See,” said Jason, leaning forward with his face still in his hands. He straightened a little bit to look at Hazel. “That’s part of the problem. I can’t even really remember what he looked like.” Jason shook his head and buried his face in his palms. “All I know is that he has these green eyes that just drew me in so completely.”

Nico began to rub comforting circles around Jason’s back. “That’s okay, Jason,” he said. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that.” Nico looked at Will and jerked his head in the direction of Jason, only to get a frown in return.

Nico rolled his eyes. “You _just_ saw him, maybe it will come back to you soon. Whatever the case, you shouldn’t be guilty. You should feel free to explore your sexuality,” said Nico. Truth be told, Nico felt rather bad to have, in some ways, taken Will away from Jason, and he wanted to make it up to the poor guy.

Nico glared at Will until finally, Will couldn’t resist anymore. “If you want,” said Will, placing his hand on Jason’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze; “You can try and pursue this other guy. If it doesn’t work out, or for whatever reason you decide you’re not really interested in him, our offer still stands.”

“Do you really mean that?” said Jason, straightening from where he’d folded over himself. He looked first at Will, then at Nico with such wide, hopeful, innocent eyes that Nico could hardly believe that this was the _pontifex maximus_ he was talking to.

Nico nodded and smiled. For being a past praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, Jason certainly seemed inexperienced in the matter of romance. It was adorable, Nico had to admit. “Okay,” said Jason, a smile touching his lip when Will nodded, too; “I’ll think about it, but thank you.”

“Don’t ever hesitate to ask if you need any help,” said Nico, the look on Jason’s face bringing a genuine smile to his face. “We’ll be here for you. If he breaks your heart, I know a couple dead guys that can bash his face in.”

Jason laughed. “I don’t think that would be necessary, Nico,” he said.

Nico shrugged. “Suit yourself, Grace,” he said, leaning back on the couch. He surreptitiously sneaked a couple of fries from his paper bag of McDonald’s, though Will caught it and raised an eyebrow. Nico blushed again.

“Well,” said Jason, laughing at the sight of Nico trying to quickly chew and swallow the fries he’d taken. He craned his neck and looked at the clock that was hung on the wall above the couch. “I think that Hazel and I should get going. I’m sure you’ve had a long day. You should probably rest or something.”

Jason got up from the couch and dusted off his hands on his pants. He raked his fingers through his hair and made for the door. Hazel, on the other hand, glared at both Will and Nico as though to tell them not to do anything too drastic.

Will and Nico looked at each other for a moment. There was no mirth shared between them. They both knew without a doubt that what Hazel suspected would not come to pass for a long time yet. If only she knew.

Jason pulled open the door. He froze where he stood when three pairs of eyes swivelled to look at him, only to stumble forward when Hazel, still looking at Will and Nico, bumped into his back. “Uh, hi, guys,” he said, blinking at the sight of Annabeth and Percy on the steps of the porch, and at Chiron standing right in front of the door.

“Jason,” said Chiron. The centaur nodded his head respectfully at Jason. His voice had been loud enough that within, Will and Nico heard. They shared a look while Will dusted himself off and got up, shooting an apologetic look at Nico.

Nico stowed away his McDonald’s on the side of the coffee table furthest from the door. “Look, Chiron,” said Will, as Jason stepped back to allow Chiron, Percy, and Annabeth into the room; “I’m sorry for what happened earlier at the camp. I’ll make it up to you and the others…”

Chiron rolled his eyes, stomped a foot, and flicked his tail. “It happens to the best of us, son of Apollo,” said the old Centaur; “There are things of far greater concern than the matter of how you will make it up to the campers you harmed.”

Nico’s eyes widened at the thought of Will harming campers. “You harmed campers?” said Nico, incredulous. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t surprised Will got banned from camp for three days, but more than that, he wanted to know why Will had done it. He didn’t get an answer from Will, only a look that promised an explanation _later_.

“Nico,” said Annabeth, elbowing her way past Jason and Percy who were having one of their hushed bro-talks right in front of the door. Annabeth never understood where the stereotype of women gossipping came from—Percy and Jason were evidence of the contrary.

Annabeth’s grey eyes locked with Nico’s dark ones. “I don’t mean to accuse you of anything,” she said; “but I think it was more than just a little coincidence that one of our enemies came back the day that you returned to camp.”

Nico frowned at Annabeth. He could tell that she wasn’t being antagonistic or anything, simply implying that there was a connection between the two events. “What do you mean, Annabeth?” he said, looking down to navigate his way out of the space between the couch and the coffee table. He made sure his drakonskin cloak was firmly set around his shoulders when he came around to stand in front of Annabeth.

“Arachne visited the city yesterday,” said Annabeth. “I don’t understand what happened. She made it past the borders. The perimeter defenses didn’t even activate.” Annabeth shook her head. “She’s back, Nico, and… she’s beautiful,” she said.

Annabeth shook her head. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to phrase what had happened but it was far too late to take her words back. Nico would understand the implication. “She said that Nyx brought her back, undid my mother’s curse, and gave her new powers.”

Annabeth had to admit that she was a little bit afraid of the way that Nico didn’t seem surprised in the least by this information. She glanced at Will and realized that he wasn’t too surprised either. “Did the two of you know that Nyx is probably rising up against us?”

Will and Nico shared a look, realizing that they should probably have acted more surprised. “Yes,” said Nico, simply. The conversation between Percy and Jason died down. They both looked at Nico as though he had grown a second head.

“And truth be told,” said Nico, shaking his head; “ _All of you_ know about it, too. Or at least knew.” Nico gestured with his fingers, momentarily at a loss for words. “Look,” he said, giving up on trying to figure out how to explain the situation, “I don’t have time to tell you everything that happened last night, but—”

Nico took a step forward to say something else, but a rather disturbing thing caught his eye. His vision had been enhanced by the tutelage of the Nameless One, and he could not help but catch the glint of magic hanging about Annabeth.

Nico glared at a spot on Annabeth’s shoulder, the anger in his veins building until, unconsciously, he began to draw all the shadows in the room toward himself. “Nico,” said Will, jolting Nico from his trance. “You’re scaring them.” Nico looked at Will, the corners of his lips quirking at the way that Will said that he was scaring _them_.

One of these days, Nico swore, Will would learn a healthy measure of fear of him. Nevertheless, there was a different matter at hand that Nico had to attend to. He feared what he would find when he extracted the magic from Annabeth to figure out whose work it was.

Nico clutched the drakonskin cloak around his shoulders and moved his fingers in Annabeth’s direction as though he were pulling on a fragile wisp of string. That was exactly what came away from Annabeth’s shoulder—a single filament of glittering silken gold.

Will took a single step toward Nico, but the son of Hades shook his head. Nico didn’t feel comfortable with Will approaching him like this.

Nico took a deep breath and splayed his fingers before the filament reached them. In an instant, the wisp of gold spun and expanded to fill a single slice of the room, from floor to ceiling, with golden cobweb.

Annabeth stumbled back from the damnable thing, scratching at her arms as though there were tiny things crawling up them. Nico pushed forward and beads of crystalline diamond resembling dew formed on the strands of golden spider-silk, making the web shimmer in the light as though it carried within it myriad twinkling stars.

Annabeth’s jaw dropped at the beauty of the spectacle. Although she still despised spiders, she couldn’t help but admire the damn thing. She was momentarily at a loss for words. Nevertheless, she managed and said “This is what Arachne said Nyx had given her.”

“No,” said Nico, clenching his fingers into fists as black fire raced down the strands of cobweb, turning them to ash that vanished into thin air. “This isn’t the work of Nyx,” said Nico, through gritted teeth. There was a good reason he had feared what he would discover when he looked at the magic, but he had never expected betrayal like this.

“This isn’t the work of Nyx,” said Nico, shaking his head as cold fury began to build in his heart; “She can’t grant new powers like this, as old and powerful as she might be.”

Nico fixed a word in his mind. It was a word in a language so old that no living creature—mortal or immortal—could speak it. It was also a word so powerful that it could summon the Nameless One just by being whispered.

Nico did not have a chance to use the word. Before he could even speak it, the Nameless One came into being in the middle of the room. He was standing on top of the coffee table, bedecked in both the skin and clothing of Zeus.

The Nameless One waved his hand dismissively just as Chiron was about to bow to him. “I am not your king, centaur,” he said, with a smile, as his disguised melted away. “I simply did it for dramatic effect.”

The Nameless One gracefully descended from atop the coffee table and sat down on the edge. He looked at Nico and smiled fondly at his protege. “You should really save that word for when it is necessary,” said the Nameless One with a gentle smile; “That way, no one else will hear it, and I won’t have to change it.”

Instead of reciprocating his mentor’s kindness, Nico clenched his fists. Anger burned in his eyes. He glared at his mentor. “Why did you bring Arachne back?” he demanded. “Why did you give her powers that could harm us—could harm me—in the long run?”

The Nameless One shrugged nonchalantly. “It was just harmless fun,” he said, with a smirk. The Nameless One flourished his hand, and an apple inscribed with ‘ _to the fairest_ ’ appeared on his open palm. His appearance changed, and he took on the form of a young man in a chiton. “It’s not like she can do much on her own.”

“You and I both know that she is _not_ alone!” yelled Nico, glaring at the Nameless One. He was _furious_ with the betrayal. He was so focused on the Nameless One that he didn’t even see Will trying to catch his attention. “Whose side are you on? Have you been playing me? Have you just been waiting for the perfect moment to betray me all this time?”

“Nico, stop!” said Will, eyes darting around in fear as shadows blacker than Nico could ever hope to conjure descended upon the apartment. Everyone else was frozen in fear where they stood, terror instilled by primal instincts reigning supreme in their minds.

The Nameless One’s eyes darkened with fury, and his fingers curled into fists. Nico’s eyes darted to Will just as the son of Apollo let out a bloodcurdling scream. Nico’s eyes grew wide, but he couldn’t move his body an inch.

Nico found that he could turn his head, but the moment his eyes locked on Will’s, he found himself immobilized by the Nameless One’s magic. Will choked and clawed at his throat as he fell to the floor. Blood streamed down one of his nostrils. Inwardly, Nico was screaming in anger and agony.

Nico felt his head being tugged in another direction. Jason had overcome the fear that the shadows inspired. As much as Nico wanted to warn the son of Jupiter, he couldn’t. Jason drew his sword and rushed at the Nameless ONe, but before he could even take a single step, he was burned out of existence by fire so intense that it burned his silhouette on the opposite wall.

Nico’s head snapped forward, his gaze held by the Nameless One. “Why do you doubt me, apprentice?” said the Nameless One, anger vibrating in his voice, and in the millions of other voices that came with it.

Nico found his eyes being directed once again toward Will’s convulsing body. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Will in the throes of death, but he couldn’t. He heard the sound of Hazel coughing, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Will, whose flesh slowly turned to ash, leaving behind nothing but a pile of seared, blackened bones.

“Was all the wisdom and foresight that I proved to you in our time together insufficient to kindle trust between us?” demanded the eldritch deity. Nico’s head turned in Hazel’s direction as she met the same fate as Will.

The Nameless One raised his hands, and every single demigod in the room turned to stone. Nico wanted to scream. He knew this wasn’t an illusion. This was real. He could feel the lives of every single person he ever cared about extinguished in an instant.

The Nameless One snapped his fingers and the statues that ringed the room crumbled away into dust. “I showed you the secrets of the cosmos and I entrusted you to lead the Greeks to glory and victory, and yet you do not trust me?”

The Nameless One snapped his fingers again. The invisible forces holding Nico in place vanished. He reached into the darkness and pulled Anathema from the darkest parts of the void. The weapon thrummed with power in his hands. It was still charged with Hades’ most powerful memories.

If the weapon could have killed a Protogenoi like Tartarus, Nico was sure it would kill the Nameless One. No god could withstand its power. “The day will come when the student shall surpass the master!” said Nico, the tears finally rolling down from his eyes at the realization that the Nameless One had left him with _no one_.

The Nameless One laughed and walked forward. He didn’t even look concerned as the tip of Anathema pierced his chest. He continued walking until the weapon was buried hilt-deep in his heart. “Not this time, child,” said the Nameless One with a savage grin; “This time, it is literally _impossible_ for you to surpass me.”

“How could you ever hope to surpass me?” said the Nameless One. His form shifted, shrinking before Nico’s very eyes. Nico was looking at an exact copy of himself. “How could you ever hope to surpass me when I am you?” said the Nameless One.

The eldritch deity laughed and took on the form of Will. “How could you hope to be victorious when I am him?” The Nameless One took on the forms of Hazel, Jason, Hades, Chiron, Percy, Annabeth, and each and every person that Nico had known, knew, and would ever know. Each transformation came faster than the last until the Nameless One was but a blur of faces and features.

“How could you hope to defeat me when I am literally _everyone_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before. Shit. is. going. down.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as I continue to shed some light on some of the facets of the Nameless One. Basically, what he's doing right now is proving just how fucking _powerful_ he is. But I'm pretty sure you still have no idea whose side he really is on right now. :3.
> 
> Also, what did you think of Nico and Will talking to Jason? XD. If only they knew, right? *cackles madly*
> 
> Aaanyway. :3. Leave a kudos if you like the story so far and a comment if you'd like to make my day! :3. *wiggles happily at you*


	35. A Glimpse of Eternity

The tears rolled freely down Nico’s cheeks. He had known for a very long time that he had no chance whatsoever to fight his mentor. Still, he had thought that maybe, just _maybe_ Anathema could do damage to the Nameless One. Such was not the case. The deity had _walked onto_ the blade without so much as a wince.

Nico looked down at the blade buried in the Nameless One’s chest. There was no golden ichor seeping out of the wound. No brilliant light like that which had come forth when Tartarus was defeated. No. The blade seemed only to pass right through the god and out the other side.

It was almost as though the Nameless One wasn’t there at all. Yet Nico could not deny, as he tore his eyes away from the blade and looked at the seared and blackened bones of Will still rolling about at the foot of the coffee table, that the Nameless One was _there_.

The Nameless One took another step forward, actually _grabbed_ Nico’s hand and twisted it, turning the blade in his chest. With his other hand, he took Nico by the collar and raised him in the air.

“Just kill me,” said Nico, his eyes swimming with tears. His entire body had gone numb from the realization that everyone he loved was now gone in a flash—without the Nameless One so much as having to lift a finger. Some part of him was still in denial. “You _killed_ everyone else. Why not off me, too, and finish the fucking job?”

A moment of silence stretched between mentor and student. Nico hung limply in the air, weeping. He was as light as a feather in the Nameless One’s hands. Almost irrelevant, in all truthfulness.

Nico tried to blink the tears that were blurring his vision out of his eyes, but in the moment that he closed them, he missed the world shifting around him as he was transported to a land far beyond what his mortal mind could have ever imagined or even comprehended.

When Nico opened his eyes again, they were now miraculously clear of tears. He looked and he _saw_. He was floating high above the Earth itself, or at the very least, it seemed that he was. Whatever sorrow that Nico had felt in his heart at that moment was washed away by a tide of wonder and amazement at the sight.

Nico reached out with trembling fingers for the nigh-on perfect blue-green sphere with swirling clouds suspended in the cold void of space before him. He reached out, wondering if he had been killed like he’d asked. He wondered if this was a kind of afterlife different from the Greek one.

Nico felt his fingers brush against the side of the Earth. He felt the dying of a million souls somewhere in Japan, as a tsunami overcame the country’s defenses. Nico gasped and took a step back in surprise and horror.

Nico expected to fall backward into the empty void, but he didn’t. He looked down, only now realizing that he was standing on _something_. An unseen cosmic floor—one that, embarrassingly enough, he almost slipped on. He closed his eyes and wished to take back what he’d done, brushing against the Earth, and just like that, the dead souls he’d felt came back to life.

Nico felt cool energy vibrate through his body afterwards. He closed his eyes to savour the sensation flowing through his limbs. The grief in his heart became a muted chorus in the back of his consciousness, the work, he was sure, of someone beyond him.

Nico opened his eyes and gasped again in amazement at the sight that greeted him. In the distance, at what seemed to be a few hundred feet away, was a massive ball of fire—the sun.

The sun was infinitely larger than the Earth that was still levitating in front of Nico, which was no bigger, perhaps, than a fist. The Earth was also accompanied by its even smaller moon. Nico gave the planet a wide berth. Until he understood what was going on, he dared not touch it again.

Nico looked beyond the Earth and saw Venus and Mercury merrily whirling around the sun whilst their surfaces were baked barren by the star’s intense heat and light. Nico looked over his shoulder and saw a comet approaching, its icy body vapourizing in the heat of the sun, forming a glittering coma around it, and a tail behind it.

Nico reached out and snatched his hand back when he realized that the comet was just within arm’s reach. Curiosity got the better of him, and he touched the icy rock with a finger. Even just a light graze sent the comet rocketing through space away from the sun.

The tail that the comet had been trying to grow fizzled out into nothing as the cold of the void of space took it.

Nico turned away from the sun. The grief of his loss clamoured at the edges of his mind, gaining purchase against the power of the Nameless One, but not quite fast enough. His eyes alighted upon the great ice giants slowly meandering through the darkness far in the distance. Much closer in, he saw Saturn with its myriad rings gliding gracefully and silently through the cold, dark void.

Nico looked for Jupiter and found it not too far away. Atop the great gas giant, the Nameless One was seated cross-legged, Anathema balanced on its tip at the end of one of the Nameless One’s fingers. “Where are we?” said Nico.

The Nameless one did not move so much as a muscle for the longest time. Anathema, also, stayed where it was. It did not move a bit. It remained balanced on its tip, perfectly still.

Angrily, Nico took a step toward his mentor. In his haste, he had forgotten all about Mars and the asteroid belt. He heard a crunch and looked down, only to see the red planet crushed under the heel of his shoe. “Is this a planetarium or something?” said Nico, glaring at the Nameless One. The pain of witnessing the deaths of all his loved ones found a tiny crack in the wall that the Nameless One had put around Nico’s consciousness.

“No,” said the Nameless One, after an eternity of silence had come to pass. The Earth had already swung entirely around its orbit, returning nearly to the place it had been before Nico found the Nameless One.

The Nameless One jumped off of Jupiter. For a moment, Anathema hovered in place, still as though frozen in time. Then, it began to fall, right into the Nameless One’s waiting hand.

The Nameless One walked _upward_ , the bizarreness of the whole thing taking Nico by surprise. He blinked and narrowed his eyes. It was almost as though the Nameless One was walking on an invisible floor much like his own, only this one was tilted upward from his perspective.

“This is the real deal,” said the Nameless One. His movements seemed to imply that he was climbing a flight of stairs. The deity jumped down and landed without a single sound on Nico’s floor. The ground shook and freaked Nico out just a little bit.

“This is the entire neighbourhood of your world. Look up—” said the Nameless One, gesturing upward as the corners of Nico’s lips began to droop in sadness “—look down. All that you see here is the night sky as those that came before you saw it.”

“These are the heavens that your astronomers watch to this day. These are the heavens that your children will watch long after you are gone and the world has forgotten. Tears swam in Nico’s eyes. His heart ached in his chest. He could only think of one word: _Will_.

Nico tried to cling to the sadness that he knew he should have been feeling, but it slipped between his fingers. It was effortlessly fished from his grasp by the Nameless One.

“This is the home of all the planets and the star that gave you life,” said the Nameless One, putting a hand on Nico’s shoulder, turning his torso to face the sun. “Well, all the planets save Mars, now, I guess,” said the Nameless one with a chuckle. He gestured nonchalantly at Nico’s foot.

Nico’s mind was moving so sluggishly under the influence of the Nameless One that it took him a moment to register that the feet he had been so sure he had shoes on were now naked. “Your earliest ancestors never trod upon their little corner of the cosmos with shoes.”

“This is the playground given to the gods who possess the power to create,” said the Nameless One. “Walking amongst the planets as though they were but floating islands in the vast cosmic void is a gift only known to them and those more powerful, even, than they.”

“This is one of the privileges that few mortals, if any, will ever know,” said the Nameless One. A heartbeat later, he disappeared and reappeared in front of Nico. The Nameless One grasped Nico’s chin and tilted Nico’s dazed eyes upward. “Not even Nyx, close as she is to Chaos, will ever know of this place.”

“I know it is difficult for the mortal mind to comprehend this place’s invisible planes and convoluted geometry,” said the Nameless One with a tender smile as he let go of Nico’s face. He took a step back from Nico and then stepped forward again, only to vanish behind an invisible wall that had not been there earlier.

The crushing pressure of sorrow instantly returned to Nico’s mind, but thankfully, his wit’s sharpness returned with it. “But I took the liberty of elevating you for the time being,” said the Nameless One, taking Nico by surprise.

Nico whirled around at the sound of the eldritch deity’s voice. He looked up. The Nameless One was standing on an invisible ceiling, where it seemed as though gravity had reversed itself. The Nameless One’s hair did not fall toward the ground, but instead it seemed to fall toward the ceiling.

The Nameless One took a single step over Nico, and vanished again. Nico jumped when his mentor reappeared beside him. In the brief moment of clarity-of-mind that followed, Nico saw a hallways swathed in golden mist and light. It was where the Nameless One had come from.

Nico tried to enter the hallway behind the god, but all he ended up doing was taking a step forward. He was unable to do what the Nameless One seemed to be doing with ease.

“Why did you take me here?” said Nico, tracing his fingers in the empty space along the wall that he had seen but was no longer there. At that moment, the grief that the Nameless One had been keeping away from him slammed into him like a brick wall.

Nico froze where he stood, time seemingly slowing down to a stop as he realized that everyone he had ever loved—Will—was gone. Dead. Killed in a moment without a second thought by the god that had been his mentor. Slowly, he sank to his knees in despair, wracked with sobs. “Why did you take them away?” he whispered, laying on the floor to curl up on himself, filled with utter regret that he hadn’t let Will closer to him.

The Nameless One loomed over Nico, beautiful and terrible as his Aspect. “Because sorrow is catharsis for worse emotions,” said the Nameless One. “I also know for a fact that it will help. The Nameless One smiled at Nico, the expression cold, emotionless, and completely unreadable for Nico.

From out of the corner of Nico’s eye, he saw the Nameless One lower his hands and wiggle his fingers upward. Nico felt his body rise, his limbs limp from grief but held up nonetheless by an invisible force.

It was almost as though Nico was but a puppet. He had to wonder, for a moment, if that was all he was to the Nameless One. “Certainly not _all_ you are,” said the Nameless One with a small smile. “Killing those precious to you was also a handy demonstration of my terrible power,” said the Nameless One, his voice thundering across the vast emptiness of space.

The Nameless One reached out toward the Earth. He took the planet from its orbit, suspended between his fingers. The moon spun away into the darkness, lost without its partner.

The Nameless One held his open palm to Nico’s eye level. The Earth was hovering over his hand. The Nameless One breathed upon the planet, except his breath was not air. Instead, the Nameless One’s breath brought forth streaks of high-energy particles, stripping away the atmosphere of the planet.

When the air was gone, the oceans boiled and the Earth turned dry and cracked. Nico felt billions of souls cry out in unison, all life snuffed away by the Nameless One’s whim as the surface of the Earth turned cherry-red—molten.

“Oh, son of Hades,” said the Nameless One with a laugh that was so chilling, Nico could have sworn ice formed on the tips of his eyelashes. “This is more real than you could ever imagine. One world just _snuffed out_ with a single thought. This is but a fraction of my power.”

The Nameless One clenched his fingers into a fist, crushing the Earth into fine powder. The impact of his fingers on his palm reverberated throughout the solar system, waves of impossible energy crumbling planets, asteroids, comets, and even the rocky cores of the gas giants to dust.

The Nameless One breathed on the ashes of the Earth, making them billow in the empty void. Streams of the ash flowed into the sun as it grew bloated and red. Nico started back in horror as the star grew larger and larger, swallowing what remained of Mercury and Venus before it grew past what had been the orbit of the Earth. “Even this is just a drop in my cosmic power.”

The Nameless One reached toward the heavens and though the light of the sun was now dim, Nico could see the shadows racing from the tips of the deity’s fingers. The shadows formed vast tendrils that spanned light-years in length and in width. They snuffed the light out of every single star in the galaxy, and then every other galaxy beyond that.

When the Nameless One was done, the only light that remained was the sickly red of the bloated and dying sun. The deity looked at Nico. Nico looked at his mentor. Silence stretched between them for a moment that lasted for eternity.

Finally, even the dying star could not last much longer. The surface of the engorged sun rippled with force as its death ripped it apart, casting the outer layers out into a faintly glowing ring around a cinder that was but a shadow of what the star had once been.

The Nameless One beckoned for Nico to follow him. Suspended by the invisible bonds that held his limbs in the air, Nico had no choice but to comply.

The Nameless One walked up to the white dwarf that remained and plucked it almost-daintily from where it was suspended in the darkness. He crushed it between his thumb and index finger. “Just like that,” said the Nameless One with a cold smile; “An entire universe destroyed with so very little effort.”

Darkness more absolute than anything Nico had ever experienced descended upon the two of them. In that deep void, the Nameless One held up a single grain of the dust that remained from the white dwarf. It was the smallest one.

The Nameless One breathed upon the speck of dust and placed it, hovering, glinting, in the middle of the darkness. “ _Let there be light_ ,” said the Nameless One, breathing upon the grain of stardust. Nico heard the beating of cosmic drums, the sound vibrating through his very soul. He was watching creation unfold before him.

And lo! There was light.

Nico shielded his eyes as the tiny speck expanded, brilliant, scorching light racing past him as space and time grew from an immeasurably tiny point to something inconceivably vast. Millions of years rushed by before Nico’s eyes as though mere moments.

Before Nico could take the time to comprehend what had just happened, he saw a cloud of dust collapsing around him, a star sparking to life at its heart, the solar system that he had known an eternity ago, back to the way it was as though nothing had happened. “An entire universe recreated with no more than four words.”

The Nameless One winked at Nico and intoned in a voice that rang through the vastness of the cosmos: “ _And He said it was good._ ” At that moment, all of the souls that Nico had felt fall to oblivion came winking back to life—blissfully unaware that mere moments ago _all_ of them had died.

More importantly, Nico felt _Will_ come back.

\----------

Nico blinked, and yet again, he missed the way that he was pulled from one realm to another. He opened his eyes. He was elsewhere now. He sat upon the same unseen cosmic floor, and yet, he felt as though there were walls around him, restricting him.

Nico looked up and in an instant of nausea, his eyes were forcibly opened to the truth of infinity. He saw sitting on invisible cosmic floors above him, seemingly within arm’s reach and yet too far to touch, reflections of himself that went on, and on, and on, and on, unending, into the darkness of the infinite far reaches of the cosmos.

Nico looked forward and saw the same thing. Below him be could see the tops of his reflections’ heads. He looked to each side and saw himself looking either way, repeated over and over again into the inconceivable distance.

Nico did not need to look behind him to know that he would only find himself looking at his own face.

“What is this place?” whispered Nico. The word echoed back to him, puny in his own little slice of infinity, but deafeningly loud when his ears were forcibly opened to the sound of all the cosmos.

The Nameless One appeared in the slice of infinity that was above Nico. The son of Hades looked up and realized that his reflection in that slice was looking straight at the Nameless One. The reflection above that one was looking _down_ at the god. “ _Everything_ ,” said the Nameless One, the word echoing in the vast, profound silence of infinity.

The Nameless One took a single step, and Nico could feel the turning of an infinite number of eyes—including his own—toward where the deity appeared next: a slice of infinity one above and one to the right of Nico. “This is a realm not even your creator gods could come to. This is my home. This is the sum total of _all_ reality.”

The Nameless One appeared in front of Nico. The original Nico, as far as Nico was concerned. The Nameless One’s voice was echoing through the innumerable slices of reality all around them like peals of thunder. The Nameless One looked down and held out his hand. Nico looked at it warily, but against his better judgment, he took it.

The Nameless One smiled at Nico, the look so full of mischief Nico had to wonder if he’d made a mistake. He didn’t have the time to ponder the question. He felt himself get _pulled_. In an instant, Nico found himself floating above all of reality in a void far more incomprehensible than outer space.

Nico’s head hurt. He was above reality, and below it at the same time. He was to its left, but also to its right. He was ahead of it, but also behind it. The sight that greeted Nico was truly unfathomable, but the Nameless One was gracious enough to allow him the power to perceive one little portion of the cosmos.

“What is this?” said Nico. The Nameless One did not answer, only motioned for him to watch the infinite slices of infinity arrayed before him.

The scene in each slice of reality changed to one that Nico was painfully familiar with. Even just watching it made his heart ache in his chest. It was the night that he had run away from Camp Half-Blood. He had given up the memory, but he knew in his heart that this was that night.

“This is all that ever was, ever is, and ever will be,” said the Nameless One.

Nico watched as his doppelgangers—the infinite number of them—walked up to the door of the Hades cabin. He could see inside. He could see Will and Lou Ellen inside. In some slices they weren’t talking. In others, they were talking animatedly.

Almost all of Nico’s doppelgangers opened the door, but many faltered for a few moments. Those few that had taken their time went into the door, confused as to why Lou Ellen was there, but amicable to the situation. Those Nicos had missed the fateful phrase that had made him leave in the first place.

The other Nicos that walked in without hesitation were split further into four groups. Some of them seemed less angry. Others seemed more. Some of them placed their fists on their hips, waiting for an explanation. Some didn’t need one and started laughing at the look on Will’s face.

Some of the angrier doppelgangers reached out and tore Lou Ellen’s soul from her body. Some of them did the same to Will. Some of them plunged the entire cabin into Tartarus. Some of them melted into the shadows—dead.

Nico watched with rapt curiosity and horror as these infinite versions of this one moment of his life played out in front of him. One by one, the slices of infinity where his doubles had died turned dark to his sight.

Yet, much to Nico’s amazement, the number of his doppelgangers that remained alive, well, and, surprisingly enough, _happy_ , stretched out far into the distance—long past what his eyes could see. “This is all that could have been?” he said, wondering why he had had the cruel fate to have been one of an infinite number of versions of him that would run away and later meet Wyn.

“Yes,” said the Nameless One, having read the question on Nico’s mind before Nico had even spoken it. The Nameless One grabbed Nico’s hand and pulled him through the cosmos, slices of infinity blurring past them.

“Do you see that one slice over there?” said the Nameless One, pointing over at one in particular as they came to a halt. “That one that is glowing with golden mist?” Nico’s eyes followed the Nameless One’s arm. What he saw was an empty slice, neither dark like the ones where he was dead, nor bright as the ones where he was still above.

Slowly, the golden mist that surrounded the slice crept in, revealing that it was frozen. What he saw was the scene that had preceded this one, the solar system laid out before him, except neither he nor the Nameless One were there. “This is where all these other ones spring from.

“As far as the cosmos is concerned. As far as the Fates are concerned. As far as _I_ am concerned, _that_ is where the _true_ story comes from.” The Nameless One brought Nico closer to the slice and gestured. “Do you know why it is frozen in that scene?”

Nico shook his head, still amazed by all that he had witnessed. The Nameless One laughed. “That’s because I had to take you out of that layer of reality. I had to _freeze_ time.”

“Do you know which reality I destroyed?” the Nameless One gestured toward a nearby slice of infinity that was dark and cracked. “This one. That golden one, well, that’s _yours_. Even I don’t have the power to destroy that one.”

“This is the prime reality. The foundation upon which all of this is built. The choices of all those other Nicos that you saw are irrelevant. But _yours_ are important. More so than you could ever know.”

\----------

Nico and the Nameless One shared a tender moment. It spanned for all eternity, the two of them being outside of time. Mentor and student had reached a new understanding, and Nico couldn’t help but feel relieved.

The Nameless One let go of Nico’s hand with a sympathetic smile, and almost instantly, Nico started screaming. It wasn’t his fault—not by a long shot. The fact was that vast expanse of reality began to spin around him.

The slices of infinity that were filled with Nico’s mirror images whirled faster than he could even comprehend. Faster than he could _ever_ hope to comprehend. Moments later, he began to feel as though he was falling backward. He struggled to turn around, but eventually he did. He saw that he was falling toward the slice of infinity that was shrouded in golden mist.

At the speed that Nico felt he was going, he half-expected that he would crash against the wall of the slice with a sickening splat, but he didn’t.

Nico kept falling. Save for a cool tingling feeling that washed over him as he passed the border, nothing particularly notable happened on his journey down. He saw the solar system underneath him, growing larger as he approached it.

Nico fell through another border that he had not seen before, and almost instantly, the rest of the solar system was washed away into the darkness. All that he could see was a tiny blue dot that he seemed to be racing toward. The dot began to grow larger and larger as he plummeted through the icy cold of space.

It was only then that Nico began to feel the temperature of outer space. He assumed—and rightly so—that he was returning to the normal plane of existence. Nevertheless, he was still being protected by the Nameless One’s vast powers from being savaged by the harsh conditions of space.

Soon enough, the earth was all that Nico could see. It was vast in every respect, now that he could see it at its full size. Nico grunted and rolled over onto his back, looking up to see the myriad stars that hung motionless in the inky darkness. He grunted again and turned to face the fall that awaited him.

For a morbid moment, Nico wondered what it would have felt like to collide with the pavement after such a fall from an astonishing height. He didn’t have very long to think. He felt his speed picking up. The ground approached him faster and faster, as the air around him began to grow hotter and hotter.

Before Nico even knew it, the roof of his apartment was coming. He flew right through it and slammed into his own body with such force that he had to stumble back.

Nico didn’t actually physically touch his body. It seemed that this whole time, he had simply been a projection of his consciousness, taken to another plane of existence by the Nameless One. When he returned to himself, he stared at the floor, blinking in shock at what had just happened.

Nico looked up and had to bite back a sob when he saw that everyone was alive and well. They were all still frozen in time. Nico felt his arm move of its own accord, Anathema in his hands. He stabbed the air in front of him, just as the Nameless One appeared and winked at him.

Shocked at the sudden turn of events, Nico tore the weapon out of his mentor and stumbled back. He dropped Anathema with a clang on the floor. He himself almost fell on his ass. He looked around wildly for the only person that mattered at the moment. He saw Will.

Tears began to stream unbidden out of the corners of Nico’s eyes. He reached out with trembling hands for Will’s face, afraid that this was all just a lie—a cruel illusion. His fingers touched warm, living flesh and he had to step back with a gasp.

Nico searched for any reason to not believe the miracle that he saw in front of him. Some missing strand in that familiar mop of blond hair like fine-spun gold—a fleck of deceit in those eyes so blue that they reminded him of the clearest days of his childhood. There was nothing.

Nico took a step forward. He closed his eyes and reached forward to touch Will’s cheeks. The Nameless One snapped his fingers and transported everyone to the _Will_ _’s_ side of the apartment. “You’re alive,” whispered Nico, taking another step toward Will. His entire body trembled with relief and joy. “You’re fucking alive,” he whispered in disbelief.

Will raised an eyebrow at Nico, only to realize it was probably in vain because the son of Hades’ eyes were closed. “Of course I’m aliv—oof!” Will grunted in surprise when all of a sudden, Nico practically tackled him to the couch.

Will felt his entire body go limp and relaxed as Nico wrapped him up in the warmest, most significant embrace that he had felt in a very long time. “Nico,” said Will. He sat up and helped Nico up onto the couch. “Is everything alright?” he said.

Nico didn’t respond. For the longest time, Will just sat there, as quiet as Nico was. He couldn’t resist Nico for very long, though. He tangled his fingers through Nico’s hair and buried his nose in the unruly locks. He was surprised to smell his favourite pineapple-scented shampoo in Nico’s hair.

Will visibly relaxed as Nico’s tense muscles loosened. “Yeah,” said Nico, voice small and somewhat vulnerable. “Yeah. Everything’s alright now that you are.”

“What’s going on?” said Will, as he wrapped his arms around Nico’s waist. He sighed happily. Some small part of him reminded him that this moment probably wasn’t going to last much longer, but he wanted to keep it going for as long as he could.

Needless to say, Will was a little disappointed when only a minute later, Nico stiffened in his arms; it was a reaction followed by a tiny, terrified squeak.

Will quickly removed his arms from around Nico and held them above his head. The smile on his lips was sad and sympathetic when Nico pulled away and dropped onto the couch beside him. “Sorry,” said Nico, rather sheepishly, as he scooted away from Will. “It’s difficult to explain,” he said.

“Hey,” said Will, realizing for the first time that the Nameless One had taken everyone else away. “It’s okay.” He said, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “If you want to tell me, I’d appreciate it if you try. If you don’t though. That’s okay, too. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

“Fuuuuck,” groaned Nico as he shook his head. He leaned forward and propped up his elbows on his knees. He buried his face on his hands and said, in a muffled voice, “Why do you have to be such a fucking good guy?”

Will smiled to himself sadly. If only Nico knew.

Nico let out a long and rattling sigh. “Alright,” he said, turning to look Will in the eye with conviction. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

“Don’t freak out, but you _died_.”

“WHAT?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, guys. This chapter was the one I had the most fun writing in a very long time. :3. you know what it did to me? It made my inner space nerd scream. :3.
> 
> What do you think of what happened in this chapter? If Nico seemed out-of-sorts, that's because the Nameless One's kinda still messing with his emotions, trying to help. :3. Anyway, leave a kudos if you liked this and leave your thoughts if you want to make my day. I would love to read what you have to say about this chapter. This demonstration of the Nameless One's vast cosmic power.
> 
> *cackles evilly*


	36. A Break in the Clouds

Nico’s revelation was mind-boggling. It was understandably still on Will’s mind, and for good reason. He had _died_ , apparently. Frankly, it was all a little bit too much to take in, but he was trying his best. Nico had acknowledged that he himself was still trying to process what the Nameless One had shown him, so Will didn’t feel so bad about not being able to wrap his mind around everything.

Will took a deep breath. “So,” he said, after a lengthy and much-needed moment of silence to gather his thoughts about this whole ordeal. “What you’re telling me is that _I_ am basically a resurrected version of myself?”

Will raised an eyebrow at the amused expression that bloomed on Nico’s face. “Yes,” said Nico, only to pause afterwards to think about the question. “Actually, it depends on how you look at it, I guess?”

“He said that _you_ particularly never died,” said Nico. Will buried his face in his hands and groaned. He knew well enough about all the space stuff that Nico had told him about; it was basic astronomy, even if he knew that the proportions were probably all out of whack.

Space stuff, however, was about the extent of Will’s knowledge. All of the talk about multiple worlds and possibilities were somewhat beyond him. He was pretty sure that all this talk of the multiverse was treading into the realm of the metaphysical. “ _But_ ,” said Nico, “There _was_ a version of _you_ in another world that died and got brought back to life.”

As much as Will trusted Nico to be telling the truth, he had to admit that it all sounded entirely ridiculous. If they hadn’t had the relationship that they did, Will was pretty sure he would have laughed Nico out of the room. A brief but horrifying thought crossed his mind. What if that _had_ happened in some other world?

A chill ran up Will’s spine. He knew the answer to his own question. If there truly were an infinite number of other worlds out there, him laughing at Nico was bound to happen once, if not an infinite number of times.

Terror gripped Will. If that was true, then there was probably some other world where he thought Nico was so deranged because of this story and stabbed Nico to death. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Will shook his head and resolved to swear to himself that he would not dwell too much on the multiverse stuff. What mattered was what _he_ , in particular, did, right? That was what the Nameless One’s spiel about this world being the _prime_ world from which every other possibility branched out of meant, right?

Whatever the case was, Will knew he wasn’t about to get an answer he could comprehend. He looked at Nico. “So,” he said, a final question on his mind. “Shouldn’t I be feeling—” Will flailed his hand in an attempt to come up with a fitting word. He was unable to. “—oh, you know. Resurrect-y?”

Will stared at Nico. Nico stared back at him. Nico looked so utterly flabbergasted that Will couldn’t quite pinpoint why. The silence between them stretched until it was so uncomfortable that Will fidgeted in his seat, wondering if he had done anything wrong.

Will’s fears were allayed when all of a sudden, Nico burst out laughing. The peals of laughter echoed in the empty room, the sound of them like music to Will’s ears. “No, Will,” said Nico, managing despite his breathlessness at the guffaws of laughter he simply couldn’t stop. “No, you shouldn’t feel resurrect-y!”

Nico surreptitiously scooted closer to Will.Both of them looked down at the distance between them—It had shrunk by about two inches. They looked up sheepishly at one another and shared a nervous smile, a slight tension in the air between them.

“Weren’t you listening?” said Nico, as Will lowered his eyes again to look at the distance that Nico had covered without much effort. “Technically, the _you_ that died was _you_ but from some other world that isn’t this one.”

Nico cocked his head at Will. “Are you even listening?” said Nico. “And… I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is adding -y to things something you do often?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Will, shaking his head to distract himself from the little happy dance he was doing in his head. The treatment was working! “I’m totally listening,” he said, sarcastically, before he was aware of what he was doing.

Will squeaked when he realized what he had just said. He looked up, expecting Nico to be offended, but there was a small smile playing on the son of Hades’ face instead. “Actually,” Will admitted, “I sort of zoned out…”

“I was half-listening!” said Will, throwing up his hands when Nico raised an eyebrow at him. “But I was distracted by the thought that somewhere out there, you and I were… happier… these last three years,” he said. He looked down, blushing furiously. He could feel the heat at the very tips of his ears. “So… sorry?”

Will felt so embarrassed to admit that he had daydreamed that he and Nico were in the kind of relationship, where they could spend the whole day in their pyjamas, hating the morning, and watching netflix, that prior to this whole ordeal, he had spent many a night and day dreaming of.

Will could see how much better adjusted to people Nico was now. Could see how much warmer he was around others. It had come with a price, though, and if there was a chance to change history, Will wouldn’t have put Nico through what he did with Wyn.

“And,” said Will, his words muffled by the palms that he brought up to his face. “I do it a lot, yeah,” he said; “Remember ‘No more underworld-ly magic! Doctor’s orders!’?” said Will, in as self-mocking a tone as he could manage.

“Why do you ask?” said Will.

“I…” Nico’s voice faltered. Will chanced a glance at Nico and saw that Nico was blushing almost as fiercely as he was sure he was. For some godsdamned reason, Will began to blush even deeper at the sight. Nico mumbled something unintelligible under his voice.

“Wait, what?” said Will. He hadn’t caught much of what Nico had said.

An awkward and tenuous silence stretched between the two of them. “I think it’s adorable!” Nico blurted out, making Will’s heart jump in his chest. Will’s eyes widened in surprise as Nico clapped a hand over his mouth in abject horror.

Will’s heart was racing in his chest. Thumping. It felt as though it would break out of his ribcage and fall on the floor at any moment. Had Nico just called one of his mannerisms adorable? He felt like his face would burst into flames at any moment now.

“Shit!” swore Nico under his breath. Maybe in days past, Will would have chastised him for the profanity, but Will didn’t care as much anymore. Nico’s glare turned terrifying. A wave of terror washed over Will at the intensity of the gaze. “Forget I said anything!” said Nico.

Will took one look at Nico’s face. The chill of terror that had bound his limbs motionless, inspired by Nico’s glare, melted away. Nico’s own face was as red as a ripe tomato, the same colour that Will suspected was on his own face.

Truth be told, it looked like Nico was just about ready to take a dive over the other end of the couch to hide from the awkward moment. Will wanted to do the same. “T-thank you,” he murmured, after a while. He looked up and smiled at Nico as best as he could despite the redness in his face.

Will grunted and fell back in surprise when he was hit in the face by a throw-pillow. “I told you—” said Nico, his voice a little bit more high-pitched than normal; “—to forget that I said anything! What is so difficult to understand about that?!”

Will shrieked with laughter as all the throw-pillows in Nico’s reach were hurled his way.

\----------

There was only one way that the throwing of pillows could end: all out pillow war. Granted, there was the single provision that neither of Will nor Nico could touch the other for fear of undoing everything they’d accomplished in their sessions so far, but it was still a fun experience.

The war raged long and hard, but in the end, it was Nico that stood grinning triumphant over the defeated pile of pillows that had, at one point, been his boyfriend.

“You have bested meeee!” groaned Will, doing his best impression of a fallen soldier. He made his hand seem to seize and fall over since the rest of his torso, and his head, was covered in throw-pillows that Nico had stolen from the other side of their dual-apartment complex.

Nico raised his arms and summoned the shadows as he began to cackle maniacally. The display didn’t last very long since almost immediately, the doorbell rang. Will popped up from under the pile of pillows, throw-pillows falling off of his body. He raised an eyebrow at Nico.

Nico raised his hands. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Nico. He was about to turn for the door when he realized what a mess the two of them had just made. The living room was absolutely _wrecked_.

Paintings on the walls were askew from where they had been hit by pillows. There were feathers strewn all over the place from a handful of unfortunate pillows that had exploded. “Oh, shit,” said Nico, his eyes widening at the same time that Will’s did.

“What do you say you fix what you can here while I go and delay whomever’s visiting?” said Nico. Will looked around him and nodded. He jumped to his feet and picked up an armful of throw-pillows. “Just toss them in the bedroom, I suppose? I don’t know, Will! Just get rid of them!” he said.

Will sprinted for the bedroom, pillows flying from his arms as he did. Nico, on the other hand, took a deep breath and placed his hand on the doorknob. He pulled the door open and slipped outside as fast as he could, only to come face-to-face with an eerily familiar mop of blond hair and light blue eyes.

“Uh,” said Nico, momentarily at a loss for words at the sight that greeted him. “Will?” he said, frowning. Hadn’t he just sent Will to fix the room. The Will in front of Nico swayed from side to side unsteadily. Nico pushed open the door and peeked inside. Will was still running around trying to get things fixed.

“O…kay?” said Nico, looking at the doppelganger standing on his porch for just another moment. He grabbed the doorknob, pushed the door open and slipped inside. He shut the door and leaned his back against it.

Will looked up from where he was picking up feathers. “Who was that?” said Will.

“No one,” said Nico, as though trying to convince himself more than Will. “No one at all. It’s probably just Percy being a prankster.” No sooner had Nico spoken the words than he heard the rap of knuckles against the door.

Will raised an eyebrow. Nico motioned for him to be quiet. “One moment,” he called out. Nico pulled open the door and jumped back in surprise when this time, the blond he’d seen outside had his arm slung around the shoulders of one very exasperated-looking Hades.

“Hello, son,” said Hades, grimacing as he shook the young man draped around him awake. “He insisted on coming to see his son. I told him no and he slipped away. You’ll have to bear with him. It seems, as you kids say, he’s still rather high on whatever it was that Asclepius gave him for his pain.”

Apollo looked up, eyes glazed over from whatever medication he’d just imbibed. Nico grimaced and took another step back as Apollo reached for his face, making pinching motions with his fingers. There was a dopey grin on Apollo’s face.

Nico took another step back when Apollo staggered forward. “Oh comeee on, daaaaaaarlingggg…” said Apollo, slurring the words as he spoke. Hades stumbled forward when Apollo tried to lunge for Nico. “Don’t play so harddd to geeet,” said Apollo. “You’re a cutie… Where’s Will? Maybe I can convince him to shareee.”

Nico was struck speechless by the comment. He couldn’t even move out of the way when Apollo pinched his cheek. He looked at his father in a panic as redness crept into his cheeks and into his ears. Will, thankfully, came to the rescue. “There he iiiis!”

Apollo took a single step, dragging Hades across the threshold, before he fell asleep. Moments later, Apollo started awake. He looked up at Will, a dopey grin touching his mouth. “My boy,” said Apollo, reaching out to touch Will’s cheeks; “My beautiful, beautiful boy. How you’ve grown!”

Apollo pulled his arm from around Hades’ shoulders and staggered toward Will. Will was rooted in place with shock at his father’s entirely unexpected appearance. Nico, on the other hand, was able to jump out of the way. As much as he knew that this was Apollo and not Will, they looked so similar that a brief moment of terror seized Nico.

Will attempted to evade his father much too late. Apollo’s hands shot out and grabbed Will by the cheeks. Apollo pressed their lips together and then let go. He wrapped his arms around Will’s neck and _moaned_ into the kiss.

Nico and Hades shared a scandalized look at the display before them as Will began to melt into the kiss. Nico was sure he should have felt a pang of jealousy, or at least something of the sort, but there was something about seeing Will kiss a virtual clone of himself that was more arousing than it was infuriating. The fact that Apollo looked more than a little bit intoxicated certainly helped.

When Apollo pulled away from Will, a single strand of saliva linked their lower lips. It was unbearably hot for Nico, whose face was red and flustered.

Looking at the two blonds, now, one would have been hard-pressed to find whom had the wobblier legs. “H-hey, d-dad,” stammered Will, softly, just as his knees turned to jelly.

\----------

Will woke up to a light tapping on his cheek. “You probably should not have let him do that to you,” said Hades, gently, as Will stirred from his kiss-induced unconsciousness.

“Whuwh?” said Will. He looked up at Hades’ surprisingly-not-terrifying face and blinked blearily. He felt as though he’d been through a marathon. In fact, he felt a little bit feverish. “Whuddyamean?” he said.

Will rolled over and buried his face in Hades’ lap. The god squirmed uncomfortably as Will yawned and said “I feel tired… can I go to bed now?” Hades tried to get Will out of his lap, but it didn’t work very well. Will just rolled back onto him, half-asleep again.

Hades rolled his eyes and looked at Nico. He jerked his head in Will’s direction and cocked an eyebrow as though to ask ‘ _this is what you like_?’ Now, Hades was not about to judge his own son’s choice of partners. Nor was he about to dismiss the fact that Will Solace was worthy of _being_ that partner, but it was times like these that made Hades wonder if maybe Nico would do better with a hellkitty instead.

Hades gently put a hand on Will’s shoulder and shook Will awake. “I mean,” he said; “You shouldn’t have let your father kiss you.”

Hades looked pointedly at his son. Nico was red in the face and refusing to look at him, had been since he pointed out earlier that Nico had an erection. Hades didn’t think it was too big of a deal. Everyone got erections. In Hades’ experience, in some cases, even the dead did!

Whatever the case was, Hades remembered quite distinctly that Nico had looked at him with abject horror and clammed up instantly. Hades rolled his eyes when Nico glanced at back at him and Will, scoffed, and looked away, ears reddening even further.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with giving your father some tongue,” said Hades, laughing when Nico made a strangled sound. “Gods! There’s nothing wrong with that at all. You _are_ a Greek, after all.” Will looked up at Hades, eyes half-lidded. “No, _Apollo_ is drained of power and has basically been siphoning energy out of everything he could.”

Hades jerked his head in the direction of where Apollo was snoring softly, draped limply over the arms of the nearby loveseat. “So,” said Hades, gesturing at Will; “If you feel hungover right now. That’s probably why.” Hades helped Will sit up and handed him a cup of nectar from the fridge. “That should help.”

Hades kept a supportive hand on Will’s back as Will quaffed the nectar as though he hadn’t had a drop to drink in hours. Considering how quickly the boy had fainted after Apollo’s kiss, Hades was pretty sure that Apollo had essentially inflicted the equivalent to Will.

Will sighed in relief as he felt a modicum of strength return to his weary limbs. He looked over at Nico, who instantly looked away, red staining the tips of his ears. Will opened his mouth to say something, brow furrowed in concern, but Hades interrupted him and whispered what had happened in his ear.

Will gasped and looked at Hades with wide eyes. He couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of what Hades had done. Nico, on the other hand, was glaring daggers at the both of them, even though his face was tomato-red.

Will had to restrain himself from winking at Nico like he wanted to. He didn’t want to risk Nico getting _really_ angry at him, even though he was pretty sure Nico could take a joke. Instead, he turned to Hades and said, “How and when did he get back to camp? And how on earth did he end up with _you_? No offense.”

Hades pretended to glower at Will for a moment, but he couldn’t keep up the facade for very long. “No,” he said; “I don’t blame you for thinking I would be the last person to be burdened with your father… No offense.”

Will waved his hand dismissively. He was Apollo’s son, after all. He was well aware of the stories about his father. Had experienced his father’s childish obnoxiousness at times. He knew it was often burdensome. Nico, much to his credit, stopped scowling and leaned forward to listen in.

“The Nameless One found him for us, actually,” said Hades, looking meaningfully at Nico. Nico had expected his mentor to talk to his father eventually. It was so strange to him that Hades called the Nameless One by title, and not by name. It gave Nico a sense that maybe his father being a god wasn’t too great a divide after all. That was incredibly unnerving.

“Believe it or not,” said Hades, looking from his son to Will and back again; “We found Apollo in Sparta. At Amyklae. With Zephyrus!”

A chill ran up Nico’s spine at the mention of Sparta. He looked at Will and found Will looking back at him. It seemed as though they had had the same idea. “Hyacinthus?” they said, at the same time. Truth be told, Will couldn’t fathom why his father would ever want to visit Amyklae again, much less _with_ Zephyrus.

“Yes,” said Hades, a strange, tender kind of smile on his face that Nico had only seen once before—when he’d returned seemingly from the dead. “Hyacinthus. The newest member of our little Olypian family.” Nico and Will shared another look, unsure of whether they had heard Hades right.

“Well,” said Hades; “From what I understand from the Nameless One, Apollo isn’t really a god anymore.”

Will frowned at Hades. “What is that supposed to mean?” he said, shooting a concerned glance over at where his father, in a younger body so eerily similar to his own, lay sleeping.

“He’s not fully a god anymore,” said Hades. Nico looked rather perturbed. He watched Apollo snort in his sleep and drew his drakonskin cloak closer around himself. _His_ choice was coming soon. The Nameless One had told him it would come when the number of the gods had shrunken by three.

As far as Nico had been concerned then, he had thought his choice would not come until three of the gods had been killed. The Nameless One hadn’t even told him what his choices would be. Now he was beginning to piece together the picture, and he wasn’t liking it, especially considering what the Fates had told him about betrayal only the previous night.

“Half of Apollo’s godhood was burned away,” said Hades, gesturing over at Apollo. He twisted his wrist and the tribal patterns of Apollo’s divinity glowed faintly. “The Nameless One rearranged what divinity remains in him, but before that, one side of him was mortal, and the other divine.”

“So,” said Will, taking another glance at the sleeping form of his father. He wouldn’t have thought that there was anything wrong with Apollo, except for sudden incestuous urges, but then again, he’d seen worse. “You’re saying that he is _literally_ a demi-god?”

Nico looked at Will and rolled his eyes. He had to admit, though, that it was a pretty clever play on words he would never have himself considered. Hades looked at Will, legitimately pensive. “Well, I guess if you put it that way, then yes,” said Hades, scratching his head.

“I’m fairly certain it would not do to call him that, though. It would likely just cause confusion.” Hades looked meaningfully at Will and Nico. “Given everything that’s already going on, I think that confusion is the last thing that we all need.”

“You’re right,” said Nico, leaning forward in his chair. “Can it be reversed, though?” he said. “Did my mentor tell you if we could restore Apollo’s whole godhood?” Hades looked at Nico and shook his head.

Hades honestly had no idea whether it could be done. As far as he was aware, only Zeus could really tamper with the divinity of other gods. It was certainly beyond him—not that he’d ever tried. He was also fairly certain that it was Zeus that was to blame for Apollo’s present state, and that Zeus would never undo what he’d wrought.

“What happened to Zephyrus and Hyacinthus?” said Will, eyes still riveted on Apollo. “Are they alright?”

Hades sighed and followed Will’s gaze. “I wish I could answer that question with any certainty. I do not know,” he said. “What I do know is that Zephyrus and Hyacinthus are now like Apollo. Zephyrus gave up half of his godhood to bring Hyacinthus back and to make him immortal.”

“In any case,” said Hades, patting Will’s shoulder as he rose from where he’d sat on the couch to help Will recover from Apollo’s draining kiss; “I think it is about time that Apollo and I took our leave of you. We have probably intruded far too much on your time together anyway.”

Nico and Will shared a look. If only Hades knew what was going on between them. Nevertheless, despite the gravity of everything that they had been through that day, neither young man could help but blush at the memory of the pillow fight that they had just had.

“No,” said Will, jumping up as Hades walked over to Apollo. “I want to see them,” he said.

Nico rose to his feet as well. “I’ll come,” He said. He looked at Will and then back at his father. “I want to see them, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, even if this is one of the chapters I like best, it was probably one of the most difficult to write. :P. Not because I didn't have any ideas how to write this one. Nor was it because I didn't have motivation or inspiration to. This one was difficult to write because it's much shorter than normal? By about 1K words, and I've been trying hard to stick to 5K words per chapter.
> 
> However, there was really no way I could justify adding another scene at the end of this one where they were just looking at Zephyrus, Apollo, and Hyacinthus and talking after two scenes of pretty much just sitting around and talking. So yeah. There you go. My thought vomit for the week. XD.
> 
> I'd like to know what you thought of this chapter! I personally thought it was adorable. And honestly, I think Nico just wants to have some fun at this point. Yeah, all the bad things are still at the back of his mind, but he's just so happy that Will isn't actually _dead_ right now that a pillow fight was basically inevitable. He also never had one with Wyn, so there were no potentially triggering moments there. :3.
> 
> Anyway. Leave a kudos if you liked the chapter, and leave a comment if you'd like to brighten my day a bit! I'd love to read what you have to say. <3.


	37. Dinner at Dad's

Visiting Hades’ and Persephone’s apartment was, more or less, rather uneventful. There was, of course, the shock of finding out that the wealthiest god of the gods present at Theopolis was living in a small, delightfully quaint apartment in an otherwise inauspicious part of town—in stark contrast to Poseidon, who was living in perhaps the grandest estate in the city.

Now that Will thought about it, seeing Hades living in such a small and cozy apartment was rather surprising. He had been to the palace in the Underworld. It had been opulent, albeit somber, and while Will didn’t particularly care for the decor, the palace had still been beautiful and grand in its own way.

Nico turned to Will and said “I actually like the place. It’s not too drab.” If Hades heard anything, Will was pretty sure the god pretended not to.

Will took a second look around the place. It was somewhat bare, but whatever decoration remained was tasteful. He could even spot a few potted flowers growing by a window. He was certain that this was all Persephone’s doing, though the skull motifs intermittently placed around the apartment were certainly from Hades’ input.

Will had to admit that after spending quite a few days at the palace in the Underworld, while Hades was helping him learn how to deal with fading because of using Underworld powers, that he rather liked the apartment, too. Even though the place seemed incomplete, it was downright home-y in comparison to the palace in the Underworld.

Will massaged his temples, willing away the headache behind his eyes. He was still getting used to the whole shadow-travelling thing. It was simply so antithetical to his heritage that it made his stomach turn. He was grateful that he was getting used to it, though, and shadow-travelling was becoming easier to endure.

Will looked over at his father, draped unconscious over Hades’ arms. He took a step back in surprise as Apollo clambered down from Hades. Well, it looked more like Apollo falling off of Hades, but Will wasn’t too keen on embarrassing his father any further.

Will watched as Apollo stumbled over to where Zephyrus and Hyacinthus were sleeping on the floor. He hadn’t even noticed the two half-gods curled up on each other there. Zephyrus’ wings were folded against his back, but Hyacinthus’ fingers were threaded through the russet-coloured feathers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Nico turn to Hades with a raised eyebrow. Nico jerked his head in the direction of the two men sleeping rather soundly on the floor—and the third, Apollo, shambling toward them like one of the living dead.

Will turned to face Hades, as well, just as the god frowned at the three half-gods, shrugged, and said “It’s not my fault they kept coming out here.” Hades, Will, and Nico watched as Apollo lowered himself to the floor to curl up protectively around the other two men.

Will’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Hyacinthus turn in his sleep to face Apollo, fingers threading through Apollo’s golden locks. Zephyrus’ one wing unfolded and draped itself over Apollo’s body in an almost-loving caress. Will averted his eyes and looked at Nico, feeling a warmth spread across his cheeks. He was surprised to find that Nico was blushing at the sight, too.

“I’ve tried to move them,” said Hades, startling both Will and Nico from their staring. Exasperation was plain on Hades’ voice. “But believe me when I say that they are about as immovable as a mountain right now.”

Hades paused thoughtfully. “Though, I guess, coming from a Greek God, mountain-moving isn’t really too difficult. For one, Olympus is now tethered to the Empire State, so…” Hades shook his head. He’d gone off on a tangent. “Anyway, I don’t know why they like that spot in particular. It’s not like the bedrooms are uncomfortable.”

Will turned back to where the three half-gods seemed to be sleeping soundly. There was sunlight shining right on the spot, though the main part of the beam was situated a few inches to one side of Zephyrus, shining brightly on the bare floor.

Will suspected it had something to do with the floor being warm since he had only just noticed that the place was rather chilly, but before he could say anything, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a door elsewhere in the apartment slamming open.

Persephone’s voice rang out loud and clear. It would have been thunderous if not for the fact that the stone walls of the apartment muffled it. “I told you, mother,” she said, exasperation crystal clear on her voice, “As far as I know, being turned into a plant is like having a long dream about said plant.”

One of the doors to the living room slammed open as Persephone stormed in. “How am I supposed to know what it’s like being a plant? Thank goodness no one was stupid enough to even try to turn me into a plant!”

Will looked at Persephone in surprise. She was holding an open clam in her hands. Demeter’s face was clear on the fine mist that held the Iris-message floating above the clam. Persephone looked up in abject horror at the three pairs of eyes that were staring at her.

Will was pretty sure that he saw a desperate plea for help in Persephone’s eyes.

No one moved to help her. In fact, Hades and Nico instantly took to looking elsewhere, pretending as though they hadn’t seen anything. Persephone narrowed her eyes, held up a single finger in the universal ‘wait’ sign and walked right back out the way she came.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Will, Nico and Hades all shared knowing looks. They had had their own experiences with Persephone’s most-of-the-time overbearing mother. The looks they shared were all they could do to keep themselves from snickering inappropriately at Persephone’s misfortune.

“No, mother,” said Persephone, her voice filtering into the room through the small space underneath the door she had just closed behind her. “I don’t know whether someone being turned into a flower while dying is any different from someone living being turned into a plant.”

“How am I supposed to know that!?” said Persephone. Will felt bad for not helping, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to risk Demeter’s attention being put on him. “Mother, do I need to remind you that _you_ are the Goddess of the Harvest? If anyone should know, it should be _you_.”

“No! Mother, I don’t particularly care about what Trip got up to in Venice!” Will winced at the sound eerily like nails being drawn across a chalkboard, except, Will was pretty sure that it was fingernails drawing gouges into the solid stone walls of the apartment.

“Well isn’t that nice that he got his chariot fixed, mother,” said Persephone, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “No, _mother_ ,” hissed the goddess. She was at the limits of her patience, and Will could tell from her voice. “You may _not_ interrogate Hyacinthus about what it’s like to be a flower.”

“What do you mean it’s not an interrogation?” said Persephone. Will heard the sound of snickering when he heard a soft banging against the door Persephone had left through. At first he thought it was Nico, but it was Hades. “Mother, taking him from our apartment, tying him down, and asking him questions is _exactly_ what an interrogation is.”

“What do you mean it can’t possibly be _that_ bad? Mother, that’s a _horrible_ idea!” Persephone opened the door and shot a pleading glare at Hades. Hades whistled, and, much to his discredit, hid behind his son, and likely-son-in-law-to-be. He shook his head, not wanting to talk to his sister.

“You know what, mother?” said Persephone, walking into the room and shooting a death-glare at Hades. “Hades and I have guests and I’d like to not be a terrible host to them.”

Persephone turned the clam to face Nico, Will and Hades. All three men blanched as Demeter looked at them, each in turn. “Is that the boy you turned into a dandelion, Persephone?” said Demeter, pointing at Nico.

Both Nico and Persephone turned crimson red at the reminder of the stupid family spat that they had had a few years ago, when Nico and Persephone hadn’t yet been on good terms. “Can I, maybe, interrogate _him_ instead?” said Demeter, a gleam in her eyes that made Nico shake his head in a blind panic.

Hades wrapped an arm around Nico’s shoulders. Although it was a foreign sensation for Nico, he instinctively leaned into the touch. Hades was being protective, and it gave Nico a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. “No! Mother! You may not interrogate my step-son! In fact, you may not interrogate _anyone_.”

Persephone shook the open clam she held on her open palm. “I want you to promise me something, mother,” she said, glaring at the image of Demeter in the spray of water. “Promise me that you’re not going to go and find some poor demigod, turn him or her into a plant, and then ask, _aggressively_ , what it was like.”

Demeter stared blankly at Persephone through the fine mist of droplets that made up the Iris-Message. After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, Demeter exclaimed, “I will do no such thing!” as though she were offended by the insinuation.

“You won’t do what?” said Persephone sternly, glaring at her mother with as much intensity as she could muster in her gaze. “You won’t turn some poor demigod into a plant?” Demeter was silent. “Or will you not promise me that you _won’t_ turn a demigod into a plant?”

Demeter coughed into her hand as though she believed it would distract Persephone. She averted her gaze and looked off to the side. “Oh, dear,” she said, the concern on her voice evidently contrived, “Would you look at the time! It’s getting rather late, so I’m sure you’d like to make your guests dinner… or something like that. Goodbye, Persephone. I love you!”

“Mother!” said Persephone, yelling at the open clam just as the Iris-Message dissolved into a misty rainbow.  She looked at Hades and placed her fists on her hips. “For the record,” she said, glaring at her husband despite knowing full well that he had valid reasons for not wanting to get involved in the conversation that she had just had with her mother.

“For the record I am not accountable for any demigods that get turned to plants, ‘ _strictly for research purposes_ ’ over the next few hours,” said Persephone, trying her best imitation of Demeter.

“Of course not, dear,” said Hades, checking to make sure that Nico hadn’t been turned into a flowering ear of corn before walking over to where Persephone stood. Persephone leaned her head against Hades’ shoulder and sighed. “But I won’t be surprised if they blamed you,” said Hades.

Persephone took a step away from her husband and swatted him in the arm. “Hey,” she said, with mock-indignation. “It’s not my fault that that Ares kid trampled one of the strawberry bushes. Mother would have cursed him even worse than I did!”

“In fact,” said Persephone, shaking her head from side to side; “As far as I’m concerned, I think that I saved him from a fate worse than the one I left him to. I just thought turning him into a strawberry bush would teach him a good lesson. I never imagined it would leave him with a crippling strawberry-phobia.”

“And that is why they call you the Iron Queen, dear,” said Hades, pressing a kiss to Persephone’s cheek. Will watched with amusement as the corners of Hades’ lips quirked up in a smirk.

Will was well aware that Hades had been about to call Persephone her mother’s daughter, but considering the conversation with Demeter they had just been privy to, Will was pretty sure that Hades did the right thing by staying his tongue.

Persephone punched Hades’ shoulder. “ _Someone_ has to live up to the ruthless underworld god/goddess stereotype, love,” she said with a playful smile. “We can’t all possibly be big softies on the inside like you.”

Hades glowered, a blush creeping into his cheeks. He turned away to hide the redness of his cheeks, but made no move to deny Persephone’s allegations. “We don’t really eat,” said Persephone, turning to the two young men in front of her, “being immortal and all. But are you boys staying over for dinner?”

Nico looked at Will expectantly, but Will looked back with wide eyes. He almost-imperceptibly shook his head—no. He had had Persephone’s food before, and Persephone’s cooking should simply _not_ exist.

Persephone’s food could _kill_ , and the only reason that Will survived was because he knew how much food his stomach could take before exploding. Yes, Persephone’s food wasn’t terrible. It was simply _far too good_.

“Alright!” said Nico, rather cheerfully. He looked with amusement at the horror-stricken expression on Will’s face that followed.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” hissed Will under his breath when Persephone took her leave to start cooking.

\----------

When Persephone was done with the two young men, Will was, suffice to say, stuffed almost to bursting. He couldn’t quite think of how he was going to sleep once he got home, considering how late into the night it already was, but he was pretty sure he would not be sleeping on his stomach.

Will and Nico bid Persephone and Hades goodnight as they stepped out into the cool night air. Autumn was just around the corner, and Will couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend autumn, and maybe even winter, with Nico.

Will looked sideways at Nico and tried to imagine how the son of Hades would look in a blanket burrito. He decided that the sight was far too adorable to imagine, despite the rugged handsomeness that Nico had grown into over the last three years.

Will turned his eyes to the empty streets. He’d asked Nico if Nico wanted to take a walk since, after all, they needed to walk off the massive dinner that they had just had. There had been a point during the night when both of them had realized that there was simply _no_ stopping the way that they had been stuffing their faces.

Will gestured to the empty road in front of the two of them. “Isn’t it a bit creepy?” he said, looking around and wondering if there were any other demigods already living in the city.

The marble streets, laced with veins of seastone, gold and silver, were stark and pale under the ethereal glow of the street lamps placed at regular intervals down the roads. “It’s unsettling, I guess, seeing a city made purely of marble like this.”

Will shook his head from side to side. “I used to think that it would be so cool to have a city built entirely of marble! Kind of like Elven cities in pretty much any fantasy stories…” He looked down between his feet, where the marble was almost purely white. “I guess I just didn’t think the _streets_ would be made of marble, too.”

“I agree,” said Nico, looking around. He had to admit that the sheer paleness of his surroundings, was just about as unsettling as the darkness of Tartarus. “I’m sure they’ll change it when people start complaining about the _roads_ getting chipped.”

“You’re right,” said Will, tilting his head sideways. He looked at Nico. “But there’s something else about this place that gives me the creeps.” Nico returned Will’s look and raised an eyebrow. “It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but it just feels so… _empty_.” Nico turned to face the empty roads in front of them.

“I don’t know,” said Nico, his voice quiet despite the fact that there weren’t really any neighbours around to get angry about being woken up at this time of night. “I’ve always found the quiet comforting, I guess…” said Nico, with a laugh. The sound was strained and somewhat bitter. “I’ve always been a lone wolf, anyway. Seeing something deserted like this… It doesn’t really bother me. Hasn’t, for a long time.”

“Doesn’t it?” said Will, casting a concerned glance in Nico’s way. Nico averted his gaze. “Hey,” said Will, gently, restraining himself from reaching across to touch Nico.

As much as Will wanted to squeeze Nico’s shoulder to offer a modicum of comfort, he knew that it simply wouldn’t do. There was no reason to toss out everything that they had accomplished thus far on a misguided attempt to help. “It’s alright to admit that sometimes you like being in the company of other people.”

The corners of Nico’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “I know,” said Nico, a weariness to his voice that hadn’t been there earlier in the night. He looked at Will, his eyes bearing something vulnerable under the light of the street lamps.

“It’s just,” said Nico, pausing as he attempted to come up with the least self-deprecating words to explain what he was thinking; “It’s just that most people would admit that they don’t want my company. Will stopped in his tracks. He opened his mouth to say something, but Nico talked over him. “I know, I know. You don’t. But you’re not representative of everyone else, and you just have to face the truth about me.”

“What truth?” said Will, walking faster to catch up to Nico after stopping in surprise. “That people are assholes? Trust me, I faced and accepted that truth a _long_ time ago.” Nico barked a genuine laugh.

“The truth that I’m a son of Hades and that nothing can change that,” said Nico, holding out his arm to catch the next street lamp that they came across. He didn’t grasp the lamp, but he allowed his palm to graze it. There was something about the idle motion that was somewhat calming. “The truth that being a son of Hades has some pretty terrible connotations.”

“People are always going to be wary of me, Will, and that’s alright. As long as the people that are important to me won’t be.”

Nico turned to Will and smiled. This one was a genuine one, free of all the pain and suffering of the last three years. It was an olive branch. A peace offering. A sign that their trust was slowly being rebuilt. “ _You_ aren’t wary of me, are you, Will?” said Nico, somehow sounding both vulnerable and confident at the same time.

“No,” said Will, looking at Nico as though he couldn’t conceive of a reason for why Nico would ask such a question of him. The question was ridiculous, but he didn’t, and couldn’t, blame Nico for the damaged trust between them.

If there was anyone that Will blamed, it was that fucker Wyn.

“No, Nico,” said Will, looking into those beautiful dark eyes. “I’m not wary of you,” he said. Nico smiled again and reached across the distance between them. Will watched warily, breath hitched in his throat, as Nico took his hand and squeezed it.

Both young men blushed red under the light of the nearby street lamp. “Good,” said Nico, after a moment of silence. “Because I would have fucking kicked your ass if you said yes.”

Will didn’t mind the crass language. In fact, it only made the way that Nico turned away to hide the blush on his face more adorable to Will’s eyes. “So,” said Nico, turning to face Will after a few more minutes of walking in silence. “You owe me an explanation about this business of being banned from camp for three days.

\----------

If Will was being entirely honest, the look of equal parts shock, disgust, pride, and amusement that coloured Nico’s face was _priceless_.

Will supposed that most of the time, he did radiate this aura of being an all-around good guy, but if there was anyone that was supposed to know better by now, it was Nico. Still, he was pretty sure that having a temper didn’t excuse what he did to the poor campers.

“Holy shit,” said Nico, awe discernible in his voice. Will couldn’t help but blush at the tone of Nico’s words. The two of them strolled up to the front doors of their adjoined apartments. “I know you said you were bad at archery,” said Nico, teasingly, in an attempt to bring levity into the situation, “but I never thought you were _that_ bad.”

Will couldn’t help himself. He chuckled at the gentle ribbing. He had to admit that the lighthearted banter was doing wonders for his self-confidence, but his guilt for hurting other campers was still dwelling at the back of his mind—bitter and consuming.

Will scratched the back of his head. “I’ve been improving,” he said. Jason had been teaching him, and there were days when it felt downright _natural_. “Jason was helping me, but most of the time, I still can’t shoot an arrow for the life of me.”

Will and Nico stopped on the shared front porch of their apartment units. They looked at each other, and then down to where their hands and fingers were still linked together. Will could tell that despite the earlier discomfort that the display of affection had inspired in Nico, Nico was finding it easier to hold Will’s hand now.

“You’ll get it eventually,” said Nico, gently. “You’re a son of Apollo. I’m sure you have the talent for projectiles somewhere in there. You just have to find it.” Will felt Nico poke him in the chest, the spot where Nico had touched him blossoming with a warm, tingling heat that crept up into his cheeks.

Before he knew what he was doing, Will leaned closer to Nico, eyes fluttering closed. Nico leaned away and cleared his throat.

Will backed away almost instantly. His eyes blinked owlishly as though he had just been startled out of a trance. For all intents and purposes, he _had_. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he straightened. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Will turned to face the door to his side of the apartment, his fingers still tight around Nico’s. He didn’t want to let go, and judging from the way that Nico’s fingers were clenched around his, too, he was pretty sure that neither did Nico. “Well,” he said, looking the door up and down; “Here we are. I guess this is good night, then?”

“I suppose so,” said Nico, looking at his own door and wondering how he could possibly get in there without having to let go of Will’s hand.

Minutes of silence passed between Will and Nico. Both of them just stood there, looking at their doors, their fingers intertwined and unwilling to let go. “Uh,” said Will, turning to look at Nico. He gulped as he met Nico’s eyes. He felt heat rush to his cheeks. “I know it might be too much to ask, and trust me, you don’t have to say yes, but…”

Will took a deep breath and turned his entire body toward Nico. He leaned in and whispered, in the gentlest tone that he could, “Can I?”

Will’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as Nico’s breath hitched. He could feel Nico’s muscles tense and lock up. The blank look that he got was pretty much proof positive that Nico’s mind had frozen—unable to process the information.

Will couldn’t help but sigh in relief when a few moments later, Nico breathed out, seemingly having calmed down. He was afraid he was going to have to help Nico through another panic attack. It was a good thing Nico realized just what he was asking.

Will watched as Nico, in turn, took a deep breath. He could tell that the proximity between the two of them was making Nico uncomfortable. There was an almost-imperceptible twitch on Nico’s left eye, a tension in the way that Nico held his hand.

Will was certain beyond a reasonable doubt that Nico was discomfited by their closeness. Nevertheless, he could see determination burning in Nico’s eyes. What it was determination about, he couldn’t quite tell. Maybe it was determination to not shrink away from an uncomfortable situation, or maybe it was a determination to not get sick. Either way, Will hoped it was a good sign.

“Yeah,” said Nico, looking into Will’s bright blue eyes. Will felt Nico’s warm breath ghost over his face in a sigh. “Go on,” said Nico; “I would like you to do it.”

Will raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He leaned in and closed his eyes as he felt Nico’s muscles tense under his fingers. He pressed his lips to Nico’s forehead and placed a kiss, tender and gentle, on Nico’s flesh. “Good night, Nico,” said Will, with a gentle smile.

Slowly, Will let go of Nico’s hand and took a step back to give Nico the space that he surely needed after what had just happened between them. The goodnight kiss was progress, but at the same time, it had also been a challenge. Will didn’t want to push Nico any further.

“Goodnight, Will,” said Nico with a small, shy smile as he turned to open the door to his apartment. He looked over his shoulder and saw Will doing the same, peeking over the doorframe. They both blushed and scrambled to get into their respective apartment units, slamming the doors behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another relatively short chapter, but again, there was an organic end point and I didn't want to ruin it by adding another scene on top of that. :3. Man fluff is a bit more difficult to write than I remember it being! XD.
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoyed seeing the progress that Will and Nico are making. Did you pick up on the tense undertones that are there? I hope I didn't just kind of glaze over the problems that they're still having because those certainly do exist. :3.
> 
> Anyway, as always, leave a kudos if you liked the chapter, and leave a comment if you want to make my day! :3. I'd love to read what you have to say about the chapter. :3.


	38. Favour of the Love-God

Will washed the last of the shampoo suds from his hair. He couldn’t help but smile at the fact that the entire shower enclosure now smelled faintly of pineapples—just the way he liked it. His cheerfulness was certainly helped by the fact that even though the day had been long and tiring on more than just the physical level, he and Nico were now making progress again, and that was all that mattered.

Will shut off the flow of the water before blindly reaching out of the enclosure in an attempt to snag the towel he’d left on a rack not too far from the glass of the enclosure. It took a little while, but eventually his fingers found purchase on the soft, fluffy cloth and he pulled the towel from the rack.

Will dried himself off while humming a happy tune. He couldn’t help doing it, even as he tousled his hair and there was towel flying into his face from every which way. Despite his lack of self-confidence in his own vocal abilities, he was _still_ a son of Apollo, and music, whether he liked it or not, ran in his veins.

The only thing that was stopping Will from breaking out into dance was the fact that he was pretty sure he would slip and die if he tried it. His mood had certainly improved dramatically from earlier in the morning, when Nico had tried to break up with him, but then again, he supposed no one could blame him for feeling terrible earlier on in the day.

Will had, after all, spent three years yearning, hoping, praying to a father that was absent, that he would get the chance to make up for his mistakes. Rejection after a day of being together with the young man he’d given his heart to without thinking? It was simply unacceptable.

Will pushed open the glass door of the enclosure and reached for the clothes that he _thought_ were nearby. They were absent. His palm met his forehead as he realized that he had not brought a fresh change of clothes with him to the shower.

It was far from the stupidest thing he had done in quite a while, but Will still felt rather incensed that he had forgotten something so simple. Nevertheless, even forgetting his clothes was not enough to ruin the mood that he was in.

Will sighed in exasperation at himself and shook his head, even as a smile played at the corners of his lips. He draped his towel around his shoulders and made his way to the hamper, where he’d thrown his old, dirty clothes before jumping into the shower.

Will reached down into the brown cloth bag of the hamper, only to find that it was empty. Stunned by this revelation, he rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times, and looked down into the damn thing once more. He had not hallucinated. His old clothes were simply _gone_.

Will was more than confused at the prospect of his clothes vanishing without a trace. As far as he recalled, as far as he _knew_ , he had not seen anyone or _anything_ for that matter, enter the room while he had been showering.

Entirely baffled by this odd state of affairs, Will raised his eyes to the wall above the hamper. Etched into a golden plaque bolted into the wall, which he hadn’t noticed earlier, was a simple message. “ _Automatic Laundry_ ,” said the plaque, in big bold Greek letters.

“ _Get your clothes washed as soon as you take them off! 1 drachma per use, unless automatic laundry service is part of your lease arrangements. Leave at least 24 hours for delivery of washed clothes right to your doorstep. You’ll never need to look at a washing machine or drier ever again!_ ” Will shook his head once more. He was beginning to realize more and more that he should probably have paid more attention to where he was putting his clothes.

Will couldn’t help but feel dismay that he was currently stuck naked with no recourse. He strolled over to the door to the bathroom, his towel removed from around his shoulders and wrapped around his waist.

Will was about to pull open the bathroom door when he realized that he was in his half of the two-unit apartment complex. He was _not_ in the Camp Half-Blood communal showers. There was _no one_ else in the unit with him.

In a sudden burst of what could have passed as inspiration—or exhibitionism, if he was being entirely honest—Will removed the towel from around his waist and turned around to hang it back on its rack. He was alone in the apartment, after all. There was no need for him to act modest when there was no one there with him.

Will pulled open the door and strode out into the hallway outside. It was a strange sensation, he had to admit, being able to walk around naked in what was basically his home. At the same time, however, the nudity felt liberating and somewhat arousing. Before he knew it, he was sporting a half-hard cock as he walked around his unit.

Perhaps he should have gone to his bedroom and gotten a change of clothes first, but Will was interested in finding out what it was like to sit on a sofa and at a dining table naked. He did those things first, the sheer novelty of getting to do all of this with his bits dangling freely between his legs enough to make him hard as a rock—thanks in no small part to the higher-than-normal libido that being a son of Apollo had imparted on him.

As aroused as he already was, nothing could have prepared Will for the sight that greeted him the moment he turned on the lights in his bedroom. Despite himself he, clenched the cheeks of his butt and squeaked just a little bit at the sight of what was on his nightstand.

Will’s cock rose to full attention and dripped a glob of pre-come onto the carpeted floor underneath his feet. “Shit,” he muttered as he walked over to his nightstand and reached out with trembling, uncertain hands for the objects that were seemingly enshrined there.

On top of Will’s nightstand were two dildos. One was downright large and almost imposing. The other was slightly smaller and had a delicious upward curve, but still seemed just about as daunting as the larger one.

Both of the dildos were set in flesh-coloured silicon, which was a boon as far as Will was concerned. He did not know what he would have done if they had been in some other bizarre colour like yellow. The important fact was that one of the dildos was significantly paler than the other.

The larger of the two silicone cocks was very familiar to Will. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why for a moment. As soon as he picked the dildo up, he blushed to the tips of his ears as the realization hit him. He almost dropped the dildo. He knew why it was so familiar: it was modelled almost perfectly after Jason’s.

Will could only imagine that the other one was based on Nico’s cock. Will set the Jason-dildo back on the nightstand and picked up the probably-Nico-dildo. He examined it and pressed it against his lips, fantasizing about its size.

Just as Will was about to slip the head of the toy between his lips, he noticed a small white card that probably had been folded neatly underneath the Nico-dildo. He set the Nico-dildo back down on the nightstand and opened the note, surprised to find that the sides of it were trimmed in gold leaf foil, with ancient Greek characters within written in golden ink.

While Will could have read the text of the note without too much of a problem, he didn’t have the chance to. No more than a few moments after opening the note did Will see a shimmering image of Eros rise from the text, seemingly projected from the golden ink that made up the writing.

“Now that you’ve seen this,” said the hologram of Eros, rather casually;  “I am going to assume that you have already seen my little gift.”

Eros’ wings fluttered behind him. It almost looked like the god was so pleased with himself he was preening. Eros flashed Will such a shit-eating grin that Will couldn’t help but want to swipe off of the god’s stupid face with a well-placed punch.

“And,” said Eros, with a smirk; “I am sure that you have already thought of a couple of creative ways to use them.” Will shook his head from side to side, but that was about the most he could do to deny Eros’ uncannily-true claim.

The possibilities, as far as Will was concerned, were simply endless. For the longest time, he had wanted a dildo. He was aware that ever since Aphrodite had made her home in Theopolis, there had been dildos available at the camp for the “sexual health” of the older campers. As close as he was to the little stand that was manned by the Eros kids, he never quite had the guts to go up to them and ask for one.

“Anyway,” said Eros, the grin on his face widening even more. “I know that we did not get off to the best of starts, considering the circumstances of our first meeting. However, I must confess, I have had my eye on you, Nico di Angelo, and Jason Grace for a very long time.”

“It is rare, I must admit,” said Eros, “to find hearts such as yours so ready to love so wholly. I sincerely want the three of you to be happy and healthy—and of course, that involves being sexually healthy.”

“Do not think that I am not aware of your destructive sexual habits, Will Solace,” said the hologram of Eros in a voice both gentle and reprimanding as Will blushed once more to the very tips of his ears. “But I have hope that now that Nico has returned to you that those habits will stop. You know as much as I that no good can come from them.” Will, despite his better judgment, found himself nodding along to the hologram’s words.

“I do so hope that you enjoy this little gift,” said Eros with a wink. “But,” said the god, almost like a stern parent giving his child _the talk_ , “Do be so kind as to not forget to use lots of lubrication!”

With a second flourish of his hand, Eros’ hologram conjured up a large gallon-bottle of lubrication that looked suspiciously like Wet Platinum on Will’s nightstand. At the same time, a bowl filled with packets of condoms materialized right beside it.

For the longest time, Will had thought that having Apollo for a father was bad enough. He had seen the utterly horrified looks on the faces of Michael and Lee when their father had given them _the talk_ , prostate massagers, lube, and condoms. Now that he was faced with Eros’ antics, however, Will could not imagine how it must feel to be a child of Eros.

Will’s blush spread down to his neck as he closed the note. The damage had been done, however. Eros had piqued his interest, raised his arousal, and made him nigh-unable to resist dropping to his knees on the carpeted floor as he smeared a glob of lube on the dildo he suspected was modelled after Nico’s cock.

As he lowered himself to the floor, Will realized that the carpet simply would not do. He wasn’t sure how he would keep the dildo upright on the carpeted floor. He hoped the toy was enchanted to stay upright when necessary.

Will pressed the suction cup at the base of the dildo against the carpet, and like magic, it stuck. He tried to knock it over, but it remained upright. He smiled to himself, satisfied that Eros had at least thought of the logistics of using the dildo on an uneven floor.

Will reached up and took a glob of lubricant from the gallon-bottle that had appeared on his nightstand. Though the thought of slipping a condom on the dildo to make it easier to clean crossed his mind, he did not. He had already lubed the dildo. Putting a condom on top of it would only make things messier and more difficult.

Using the glob of lube on his fingers, Will reached down and massaged the cool lube on his hole. He wasn’t particularly keen on fingering himself at the moment, but he slipped two into his ass to at least loosen himself up. He scissored his fingers open, grimacing at the burn.

It did not take too long before Will was satisfied that he was stretched enough to take the dildo. He did not want to be too loose for it. He positioned himself over the toy and slammed himself down. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned as the pain of being penetrated by the rather large toy mingled with the pleasure of the blunt head directly striking his prostate.

\----------

_“Oh fuck yeah,” whispered Nico as Will bounced up and down on his rigid manhood. Will couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of Nico’s fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. He couldn’t be happier. It had taken a very long time and lots of blood, sweat, and tears for the two of them to finally reach this point. Now that he had Nico buried deep inside of him, however, Will had to admit that it was worth all the hardship._

_“You like that, don’t you?” said Nico, a harmless and somewhat reluctant sneer evident in his voice. As half-hearted as the dirty talk might have been, it was enough to send a shiver run up Will’s spine. At the very least, it did not detract anything from Nico’s majestic performance. Nico’s every thrust hit his prostate and made him keen in pleasure._

_“If I had known you were such a cockhungry slut—” Will grunted as Nico thrust onto his prostate once more. He had to wonder what kind of porn Nico had been watching thus far, but he liked it._

_Will distinctly remembered, at the start of all of this, begging Nico to be as rough as possible. He distinctly remembered begging that Nico dirty-talk him as much as possible. Gods. Nico was_ good _at dirty-talking._

_Granted, Will could tell from the uncertainty in Nico’s voice that it wasn’t something that Nico did very often. If anything, it was something that Nico probably picked up from porn. Truthfully, though, Will was beyond caring._

_It was beyond titillating for Will to hear Nico talk to him in such a debasing way. He knew it was harmless. They both did. Nevertheless, that did not detract, in any way, from the fantasy of Nico_ using _him. “—I would have given you my cock earlier. But I guess,” said Nico, voice steadily gaining confidence, “I guess hearing your pretty little face begging for it was a much better experience.”_

_Will tossed his head back, eyes squeezed shut as sweat flung free from the strands of golden hair plastered to his forehead. Nico thrust his hips up into Will’s, grinning as Will moaned._

_Will was entirely soaked in sweat. The temperature in the room had only grown progressively hotter since the time that they had begun. They had been at this after a while, after all._

_Without pulling himself off of Nico’s cock, Will turned around to face his lover and boyfriend. He raised his ass and slammed it back down, meeting Nico’s upward thrust. He waited for the moan of pleasure that he was so sure would escape Nico’s lips, only, it never came._

_Will looked up into Nico’s dark eyes, only to find that they were staring at him in concern. It was almost as though Nico was asking whether or not what he had been doing thus far was acceptable._

_Will could not find the words to express how thankful he was that Nico was being such a good and considerate lover to him. Instead, he leaned down, not missing a single thrust of his hips downward, as he kissed Nico with mad and inflamed passion to answer the questioning look that he had received._

_Will tried to pull away after a few moments, but instead, he felt the fingers of Nico’s hands thread through his hair. Nico gripped the back of his head and kept him there. He wasn’t about to complain, although, truth be told, he wanted to get back to fucking himself on Nico’s cock._

_Will did not have too much to worry about. Nico did not miss a single beat of his thrusting even while he was kissing the very air out of Will’s lungs. Despite himself, Will couldn’t help but moan into Nico’s mouth, allowing Nico’s tongue entrance to trace over his teeth and slide against his own._

_When Will was finally able to pull away, he looked into Nico’s eyes and found that the concern that had been there earlier was now gone—replaced with a hunger and a burning desire that simply made Will’s cock throb with arousal between his legs._

_Will looked down at his own cock, neglected thus far in his lovemaking with Nico. He felt no desire to reach down between his legs, to stroke himself, to bring himself to fruition. In fact, more than anything, Will wanted to find out if he could come just from being fucked by Nico._

_“I take it back,” said Nico, with a chilling grin that made Will’s toes curl. He looked and Nico was staring at his cock, dripping pre-come liberally onto Nico’s belly._

_“You don’t just_ like _riding my cock,” said Nico. He stroked the side of Will’s face with a single finger, the motion enough to send a shiver of pleasure up and down Will’s spine. “You fucking_ love _it.”_

\----------

Will’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the Jason-dildo thudding softly on the floor beside him. He truthfully had no idea how it had managed to roll off of the nightstand, but he supposed that his vigorous self-fucking on the Nico-dildo had been enough to shake it from its perch.

Getting ripped from his beautiful fantasy, though, was not enough to stop Will from fucking himself up and down on the dildo that was firmly seated in his ass. Gods knew that the dildo felt so good buried inside of him. If this was what Nico’s cock was like, Will wasn’t sure how he could keep his own in his pants around Nico.

Will bounced up and down on the dildo, his lips parted in a perpetual, albeit silent, moan. He firmly gripped his cock, stroking it as fast and as tightly as he could. He was approaching the edge of orgasm, but some part of him did not want to come _just_ yet.

As his cock dripped pre-come onto the carpet, making a sticky mess of the damn thing, a ridiculous but titillating thought crossed Will’s mind. He bit his lower lip as he looked at the veritable copy of Jason’s cock that lay beside him. The idea was crazy, but there was no one to stop him. He was going to try it anyway.

\----------

_Nico placed two fingers on Will’s lips, smirking at Will the whole time. Will blushed hard as he parted his lips and took the fingers into his mouth. He licked them and suckled them just as he would have done if it had been Nico’s cock on his lips instead._

_“Slut,” mouthed Nico as pink blossomed on Will’s cheeks. Will had expected Nico to sputter and stutter earlier when he’d asked to be dirty-talked. Instead, he was faced with a Nico that was not shy by any stretch of the imagination. A Nico that was confident to such an extent that Will clung to every word he spoke and took pleasure from them._

_“If I had known,” said Nico, in a sing-song, almost-mocking voice; “I would have pinned you against the wall, torn those shorts of yours off of your ass, and fucked you while holding you up right then and there.”_

_The growl that escaped Nico’s throat at that moment was so primal, animalistic, and titillating that Will couldn’t hold himself back any longer. His cock throbbed almost painfully as it swelled. He fought vainly to contain himself, but he spilled right over the edge. His ass clamped down on Nico’s cock. His toes curled, his back arched, and his eyes very nearly rolled up in his head from the pleasure he experienced as he began to come._

_Thick, long ropes of warm come gushed out of Will, painting Nico’s chest white as Nico watched with an amused expression. “If that’s what you really wanted,” said Nico, the corners of his lips turning up in a self-satisfied smirk; “You could have just asked for_ that _instead.”_

_As Nico rained brutish kisses on the tender flesh of Will’s shoulder, some small part of Will registered the sound of the doorknob to their room turning. He looked over his shoulder instinctively as another young man entered the room. All he was able to catch of the quiverful of arrows that Jason was carrying was the sound of them clattering to the carpeted floor as Jason looked up in shock at the marvel that was laid out before him._

_Nico looked at Jason, and for a moment, a wave of terror washed over his eyes. As Will watched, Nico swallowed audibly and assumed his domineering attitude once more._

_The sound of flesh slapping on flesh rang out in the room, along with a cry of pain torn from Will as Nico spanked his pert bottom. “Hey, Jason,” said Nico, with a slight jerk of his head in almost-casual acknowledgement._

_“Do you want a piece of this ass, too?” said Nico. The grin that manifested on Nico’s face was so convincing and so chilling that Will’s softened cock hardened again, at the same time that Jason’s monstrous weapon noticeably hardened in his pants._

_“Holy shit,” whispered Will under his breath. He looked into Nico’s eyes, his own blue ones watering from the force of the orgasm that had just been torn from him by Nico’s earlier words. There was an expression of askance in Nico’s dark eyes. A question, a request for permission._

_Despite his better judgment, Will found himself laying flat against Nico’s chest, smearing his come onto himself. “Fuck,” he whispered, just loud enough for Jason to hear past his panting and intermittent moaning. “Fuck, yes,” he said, voice going an octave higher as Nico provocatively thrust into him. “Gods. I need you both. Please.”_

_The way that Nico stroked his face so tenderly at that moment of weakness sent shivers down Will’s spine. Nico leaned forward and caught the lobe of Will’s ear between his teeth before whispering “Such a needy little cockslut, aren’t you?” Nico bit Will’s ear. Will yelped. “One cock just isn’t enough to satisfy that hungry hole of yours, isn’t it?”_

_“Come on,” said Nico, the smirk never once leaving his face as he turned to look at Jason. “Fuck him,” said Nico in an authoritative voice that made Jason stop in his tracks. Nico landed another spank on Will—the muffled sound of pain it tore from Will’s lips echoing throughout the room._

_“But…” said Jason, who, despite himself, had already taken off his shirt. There was no denying that he desired to have his way with Will while Nico was in the room, but he was pretty sure he couldn’t do that_ while _Nico was fucking Will. “You’re still inside of him.”_

_“I don’t think that matters,” said Nico, looking askance at Will once more as he stroked Will’s side gently. As tender as Nico was being, Will was glad that yet again, Nico wasn’t missing a single thrust._

_Will’s fingers were clenched to either side of Nico’s head from the sheer pleasure that Nico’s fucking was giving him. If, a few years ago, someone had told Will that Nico di Angelo was such a good and dominant top, he would have laughed in their faces._

_Now, however, that Nico had just managed to rip an orgasm out of Will with nothing but a steady thrusting and a few choice words, Will would have agreed to such a statement wholeheartedly._

_Another thrust to Will’s prostate tore Will out of his rumination. Another spank hit his butt, stinging and painful but somehow pleasurable at the same time. “Do you want us to fuck you at the same time?” said Nico, clearly stating the question now that he was aware that Will’s thoughts were too incoherent to capture the nuance of body language._

_“I don’t kno—” Will roared in pleasure as one long stroke from Nico stabbed into right into his prostate. “Oooooh,” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the scream that wanted to rise from his throat. “Fuck!” he exclaimed._

_Throwing all caution to the wind, Will nodded vehemently in what he hoped was Nico’s direction. “Gods,” he said, voice trembling from the sheer intensity of Nico’s fucking. “I want both of you in me. Please. Gods.” Will panted and bit the flesh of Nico’s exposed neck in a vain attempt to stop the groan that escaped him. “Oh, gods! Please!”_

_For a minute after his admission, all Will could hear was his and Nico’s laboured breathing. The sound of Jason’s zipper being drawn down sent shivers of anticipation and pleasure up his spine. For a few moments after that, silence, apart from the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as Nico’s hips pressed into his, and the involuntary moans that were ripped from his throat, descended once more._

_Will’s entire body tensed in anticipation as he felt a weight shift on the bed behind him. He felt Jason’s hands on his waist as the son of Jupiter took up position behind him._

_As the considerable girth of the blunt head of Jason’s cock pressed against his tight, already-filled entrance, Will arched his back, pressing his own cock harder into Nico’s stomach._

_Will was beginning to regret his decision to allow both Nico and Jason to fuck him at the same time. As the pressure on his poor hole mounted, however, he found himself not asking for a break, not demanding that they stop immediately. Instead, Will found himself panting and begging for more._

_With a low groan, Jason pushed into Will. Will felt like he was being split right in half. There was a painful fire in his ass that simply wouldn’t go away. He screamed in pain, biting down hard enough to draw blood on Nico’s shoulder in a vain attempt to muffle the sound of his agony._

_Jason and Nico immediately stopped moving at the sound of Will’s pain. They stroked his sides and soothingly whispered sweet nothings in his ear. “Do you want me to stop?” said Jason, as Will felt the son of Jupiter’s fingers thread through his blond locks._

_“No,” said Will, pressing his ass back despite his obvious discomfort and pain. “Keep going,” he begged. Jason looked at Nico, looking for guidance. Nico only nodded._

_Will felt Jason’s cock press into him slowly. He appreciated the gesture, appreciated the thought that Jason didn’t want to hurt him too badly. As Jason slowly entered him, both the brunet underneath him and the blond atop him stroked him, making sure he wasn’t in too much pain._

_When finally, Will felt the bottom of Jason’s cock rest against his ass, the tension in his shoulders melted away. The pain began to fade into nothing, slowly being replaced by the pleasure of being fucked so full of cock._

_The thrusting began slowly, with Nico pulling half out first, then thrusting in just as Jason did the same thing. This happened again and again in a torturously slow cycle. Nico went half-out, Jason went half-in. Nico went half-in, Jason went half-out._

_Jason and Nico set their rhythm, pumping in tandem to make sure that Will’s little sweet spot was never left wanting for stimulation._

_Will had to admit that having two cocks inside of him was a strange sensation, but the gods knew how fucking_ good _it was. He was pretty sure that Nico and Jason could make him come without touching himself at their current pace. He could only shiver with anticipation as the tempo of Jason’s and Nico’s fucking began to pick up._

_Faster and faster the two men went, plunging their stiff cocks into Will’s warm tightness. They grunted and moaned, the three of them, in a symphony of sensual pleasure. They were lost in each other, but they could all only last for so long._

_Jason, for all his bluster outside the bedroom, was the first to go. Will’s tightness and warmth was much too great for him. He slammed his cock into Will just as Nico was pushing in as well, extracting a yelp from Will as he was stretched more than he had been earlier._

_Both Nico and Will felt Jason’s cock swell and begin to pulse, painting Will’s insides white with his hot come. Jason’s arms, that had been supporting his weight thus far, gave way._

_Jason collapsed on top of Will, just as Nico pulled Will to his chest. It was Nico’s turn. Feeling Jason’s cock spurt beside his was too much. He roared in pleasure as his own cock followed Jason’s example, shooting come into Will with such force that Will couldn’t help but feel as though the come was flooding his intestines._

\----------

The moment that Nico began to come in his fantasy, Will’s eyes flew open. He yelled out Nico’s name, thankful that the walls were made of stone. He slammed himself down on the two dildos he’d been fucking himself on for the last half hour, his hand a blur as it pumped up and down his cock.

Will groaned as the come began to spurt from him. Strings of hot seed splattered against the wall he was facing. The globs of his come that clung to the wall slowly dripped down as he fell back onto the carpet, the dildos Eros had been so kind as to provide him with, still buried firmly inside of him.

Will closed his eyes to bask in post-orgasmic bliss, but the moment that he did, all the exhaustion and fatigue of the day, both emotional and physical, slammed into him like a wrecking ball in full swing.

Will tried to fight the tiredness and sleepiness off, but he failed faster than he had expected. When next he opened his eyes, the sun was merrily shining into his room through his window, and his ass was pleasantly sore and stretched by the two dildos that were somehow _still_ inside of him.

As the wakefulness spread through his limbs, Will began to become more and more aware of the sound of the incessant ringing of a bell. He wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from, but he wanted it to stop.

Nevertheless, the moment he heard the muffled sound of Nico calling for him, his entire body jolted to full wakefulness. He sat bolt upright, moaning rather loudly as the motion pressed the two dildos into his prostate with considerable force. “Coming!” he yelled, at the top of his lungs, trembling as he tried to put away his morning wood.

Gingerly, Will pulled the toys from his ass and made his way, bowlegged from the soreness of his hole, to the nearby closet. He pulled the closet open and grabbed a hand towel to clean himself up. He was pretty sure he reeked of dried come and sex, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

Will dressed as quickly as he could, spritzed a little of the cologne he’d found in the closet on himself, and rushed out of the room. He made his way to the door that joined his apartment unit to Nico’s and brushed his hair back in an attempt to look at least a _little_ presentable as he pulled the door open.

Nico looked visibly startled when the door swung open. His eyes widened as he got his first look at Will, who, despite attempting to look presentable, seemed to be rather dishevelled.

Despite the pleasant aroma in the air that made his nose tingle, Nico could also smell the stench of sex. “Did I interrupt something?” said Nico, frowning as he tilted his head at Will. “Were you having some special alone time courtesy of gifts from Eros?”

The blush that blossomed on Will’s face spoke volumes. “N-no!” he stammered, though he knew that Nico knew he was lying. He looked up and saw a smirk on Nico’s face, not too different from what he’d seen in his fantasies. “I’ll explain later,” he said, the redness on his face spreading to the very tips of his ears. “Would you mind if I take a shower first?”

Nico smiled at Will, though for the first time, Will noticed the bags under Nico’s eyes. “Go ahead,” said Nico, waving his hand dismissively. “Come by when you’re done, though. Maybe we can talk over lunch. I just found out I have a fully-stocked pantry.” Will genuinely couldn’t tell if he was hallucinating, but he could have sworn there was a sparkle of excitement in Nico’s eye.

“Uh, are you going to cook?” said Will, somewhat at a loss for words at the odd one-eighty that Nico did overnight. Nico nodded. “Alright,” he said, slowly, as Nico reached for the doorknob and pulled the door shut.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy beeday to me! Happy beeday to me! :3. Good gods I'm 20 now. :P. Anyway, as you can see, this is a rather generous chapter. How did you like it? I would love to know. :D.
> 
> What did you think of Will's fantasy of being DP'ed by Nico and Jason? Would you want to try it? *cackles madly* And why do you think that Nico knows that Eros gave Will something? Do you think Eros gave Nico something, as well? What do you think Eros gave Nico? :D.
> 
> *wiggles* Anyway, as always, leave a kudos if you like the story so far, and leave me a comment if you want to make my day! :3.


	39. Of Sex-Toys and Semolina

Will leaned against the heavy wooden door. He tossed his head back and grunted in pain as it collided with a surface that was harder than he had expected. He scratched his head in frustration, but not even the pain he felt then could overwhelm the feeling of embarrassment that permeated every fibre of his being.

Will was pretty sure that his whole face was about as red as it could get. The shame of being caught was almost incomprehensible to him. Despite that, his own cock—the traitor—was as hard as possible in his pants. He was beginning to fear that he had turned into an exhibitionist overnight.

Whatever the case was, Will was pretty sure that by this point, he was about ready to die of so much fucking embarrassment. He didn’t even know how on earth he was going to look Nico in the eye again, much less _talk_ to Nico.

Will had to concede that _yes_ , he and Nico were boyfriends and that at some point in the future they would have to talk about sex and maybe even masturbate in front of each other. _However_ , considering the gravity of their current situation, Will was beginning to realize just how shameful it was to have fantasized about Nico in _that way_.

Will was so enveloped in his own embarrassment and misery at being called out that the thought of how Nico knew he had received toys from Eros never once crossed his mind.

What Will _did_ know was that the stench of dried come and sex that hung about him had probably contributed quite a bit to Nico’s conclusion. As much as the smell made him embarrassed, it also made him aroused. His rebellious hand slipped down through the waistband of his shorts and began to rub his hard cock through his underwear.

Will hissed at himself and pulled himself off of the door. He shuddered, feeling sorry for himself and the incredibly libido that being a son of Apollo had imparted upon him.

As he walked away from the door, Will could have sworn that he heard a snicker from the other side. He had to wonder if he was just starting to go crazy. There was no way that Nico would have stayed to listen to what was going on through the other side of the apartment, right?

Will shook his head and blushed even more as he made his way to the shower. His cock growing harder with every step as it rubbed against the suddenly-sensual material of his own underwear. Halfway to the shower, he buckled against the wall and groaned as a glob of pre-come spurted from the tip of his cock, the growing stain in front of his pants growing.

“Shit,” Will muttered under his breath as he made his way to the bathroom. Just as he was turning the doorknob, he realized that he needed a decent change of clothes. He was not going to risk ending up with _yet another erection_ because of walking around in his own apartment naked.

\----------

Nico shook a box of semolina flour that had appeared in his pantry at some point in time between the first time he looked and when he’d gone to check if Will was home.

Truth be told, Nico wasn’t about to complain. He had wanted to try and cook pasta, but the logistics of a self-filling pantry were beginning to bother him. Thankfully, just as he was making a well in the middle of a mound of semolina on one of the marble countertops of his kitchen, he heard the ringing of the small silver bell that hung over the door that joined his apartment to Will’s.

Nico supposed that the bell was the tongue-in-cheek version of a doorbell in Theopolis, but he wasn’t sure it was the most practical choice. For one, it was barely audible from other rooms.

Nico looked over his shoulder, fully expecting a son of Apollo to be standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He didn’t find one. “Come in!” he yelled, as he dusted off his fingers and wiped them down on his apron. He had entirely forgotten just how messy working with flour could be. Then again, however, the last time he’d tried, he’d been no older than 10, and everything he’d done was a lot messier.

Nico cracked open an egg on the side of a small glass bowl that he’d set down beside the mound of flour. He tried his damnedest to remember just how to make proper fresh pasta. He was stuck on whether or not to use egg whites or purely egg yolks to put in the well.

Nico shook his head and decided that dealing with his visitor was the more important thing to do. “Will!” he said, “I’m in the kitchen.”

Nico decided that he was going to use one whole egg and three additional yolks. It just felt _right_. When he had slipped the eggs into the bowl, he looked over his shoulder and noticed a mop of blond hair—and the face that came with it—peering over the side of the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hi,” said Will, blushing furiously as he looked away, unable to meet Nico’s gaze. Nico rolled his eyes. “I totally knew that you were in the kitchen,” stammered Will. “I didn’t get lost in the apartment unit that’s an exact mirror image of mine. Yup. That didn’t happen.”

Nico shook his head. Sometimes, Will was awkward as all hell. He found it adorable, though he was pretty sure he was not going to voice those thoughts at any time in the near future.

Nico turned back to the yet-unmade pasta that was sitting in front of him on the counter. “Feel free to sit down,” he said, waving his hand dismissively behind him as he began to gingerly mix the ingredients.

Nico did not even look up as he heard a chair being pulled out from under the nearby dining table. A few moments passed by in awkward silence as Nico continued to combine the pasta with the eggs in the middle.

“Hey,” said Nico, in response. He couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips as he drew the walls of the flour well into the eggs. A minute later, halfway through mixing, he very nearly smacked himself on the forehead.

Nico could not believe that he had forgotten about the olive oil and sea-salt that went into making pasta. He reached over into the sink to wash his fingers, dried them against his apron, and retrieved a tablespoon of olive oil and salt.

Nico poured the two missing ingredients into the mixture, muttering curses in Italian under his breath the whole while. It had been some time since he’d actually made fresh pasta—not that he had actually ever made it _alone_.

The first and only time that Nico had even _tried_ to make pasta was when he was far too young to actually manage it. One of the few memories that he had managed to regain from the Lethe was the time when his mother had been trying to teach his 8-year-old self how to make pasta.

Tears briefly welled in Nico’s eyes at the memory of his mom. He shook his head. He blinked the tears away before even a single one could fall into the pasta he was making. He rubbed them away with the backs of his hands.

Nico leaned against the countertop as he fought valiantly to choke back a sob. It took a little while, but he eventually managed to regain his composure. Nico could not help but feel grateful that Will did not make a single sound the whole time.

Even though the decades since he lived in Italy had left his fingers dumb, as Nico worked the ingredients together, the motions steadily became more and more familiar. They became easier.

Nico caught himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was some merit to the stereotype of Italians being really really good with pasta. As the dough came together under his fingers, Nico couldn’t help the small smile that played on the corners of his lips. The dough looked great and he could only think that finally, something was going right in his life—even if it was just as minor as pasta dough.

Nico worked the dough into a ball, rolling it across the countertop with the palm of his hand. He made sure to flour the surface so the ball wouldn’t stick too much. Before long, he was satisfied with the shape. He massaged the outside with a little olive oil and wrapped the entire thing in cling wrap, setting it aside to rest.

Nico turned around and faced Will. He was pretty sure that Will had been staring at him and looked away only because he was about to get caught.

Nico shook his head. He was pretty sure why Will was doing such a thing. Will’s ears were about as red as the tomatoes that Nico had set aside earlier for the sauce of his pasta. He washed his hands and pulled out the chair that was opposite of Will.

“Hey,” said Nico as he sat down and looked at Will. Will looked up, met Nico’s eyes for a fraction of a second, and looked away almost immediately. Nico laughed, the sound as small and shy as he felt talking about this kind of thing with Will. “It’s okay,” he said, “Everyone has to deal with a stiffy sometimes.”

Will’s face reddened even more. Nico was pretty sure that Will was also growing with a dim crimson light. Nico pursed his lips in an attempt to not laugh. He had just been about to say, “ _You’re pushing the definition of blushing right now,_ ” but thought better of it.

Nico reached across the table and touched Will’s hand. A brief surge of revulsion coursed through his veins, but he fought it off. It did not last too long. “I have something to show you,” he said, rising from his chair. Will looked up at Nico, eyebrow raised in askance.

“I can’t quite describe it,” said Nico, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips, “wait here.”

\----------

Now, truth be told, Nico already had a sneaking suspicion what the toys that Eros had left him were.

Nico had _acted_ on his suspicion after all. When he’d woken up from his third nightmare the previous night, terrified and angry, he had used one of the toys and hadn’t met too much in the way of tragedy. Nevertheless, if acting somewhat ignorant about the nature of the toys would help Will deal with their existence, Nico was more than willing to do it.

Helping Will feel a little bit better about himself was the least that Nico thought he could do in return for all the good that Will had thus far done for him.

Nico walked over to his nightstand. He stopped in front of it for a few moments, fists on his hips. On the dense wooden surface of the nightstand stood two toys that looked like suspiciously fat flashlights. He could see _why_ the toys were called flesh-lights. At least, that was if Eros’ hologram was to be trusted.

From the moment that Nico had popped the caps off of the two toys, Nico had had the suspicion that one of the two was meant to serve him if he was actually horny and wanted to get his rocks off. The other one, he was sure, was meant to help him deal with all the shit that Wyn had put him through.

The one that Nico suspected was more of a stress-relief toy than a sex-toy was surrounded by a plastic shell of an iridescent green shade that was disturbingly similar to Wyn’s eye-colour. The silicone that made the interior was a perfect replica of Wyn’s pale, easily-burned skin-tone, too.

Truth be told, in the back of his mind, Nico could remember a handful of occasions when Wyn had forced him to rim Wyn’s entrance. Looking at the asscrack-shaped depression in the silicone and the hole in the middle, he was more than certain that the silicone asshole set into the flesh-light was Wyn’s.

Nico growled with momentary frustration as, with a swipe of his hand, he knocked it off of the nightstand. Will did not need to know that the Wyn flesh-light existed. In fact, he believed that it would be better if Will did not know of it.

Nevertheless, Nico couldn’t keep his eyes off of the toy as it rolled under his bed, come trickling from the abused entrance of the toy.

When he had woken from his third nightmare in the early hours of morning, Nico had been angry. He had been furious. There was a deep-seated terror and disgust within him, but more than anything, he was filled with absolute rage that Wyn, someone he trusted wholeheartedly, could do such a terrible thing to him.

Perhaps in past years, Nico would have run away from the problem. Not anymore. Nico had seen too much, been through too much. He knew that the only way to solve anything now was to face a problem, no matter how difficult it might be. Will was an exception, but the only one.

There was also another problem with the way that Nico had woken up after that nightmare. He had not only been livid. In his nightmare, Wyn had snapped a collar around his neck, choking him as he was fucked mercilessly. When he’d awoken, he was also hard and aroused.

The come trickling from the abused hole of the Wyn flesh light was from the frenzied and furious moment of weakness that Nico had had. Nico had grabbed the flesh light from the nightstand. He had squeezed it until the plastic cracked. And he had fucked it into the bed with as much force as he could manage. As much disgust and loathing as was in every fibre of his being.

 Nico could not help but feel somewhat ashamed for being so violent, but a small part of him believed that Wyn deserved nothing more than to receive what he had dealt to Nico over three months.

Whatever the case, regardless of the morality of what Nico desired to do to the Welshman that had stolen three months of his life, Nico had to admit that the experience had been cathartic.

Perhaps Nico had not slept much after he fucked the flesh-light, but at the very least, afterwards, he had felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his chest.

Nico leaned down and grabbed the other flesh-light from the nightstand. This one was wrapped in a shell of beautiful azure plastic that Nico could get lost in as much as he did in Will’s bright blue ones. The silicone was also the same colour as the sun-kissed skin that he had seen on Will when they had first met.

As he walked to the door to his room, Nico had to wonder how Will would react to the flesh-light he now held in his hands. He was certain that Will would put two-and-two together instantly.

Nico was also fairly sure that the look of horror on Will’s face would be priceless. The corners of his lips turned up in a faint smirk. He wished he had a camera, since things were certainly looking up—at least for the time being.

\----------

Nico tossed the blue flesh-light from one hand to the other as he made his way down the corridor from his room and back to the dining-room-that-was-also-a-kitchen.

When he arrived, Nico noticed that Will was not paying attention to him at all. Will had a faraway look in his eyes, but from where Nico stood, it almost seemed as though Will was staring hungrily at the ball of pasta dough sitting undisturbed on the counter, resting.

Nico looked at the pasta dough and decided that he should have probably started preparing for lunch much earlier. He had thoroughly underestimated the amount of effort that went into preparing fresh, genuine Italian food. Regardless, it was much too late to have any regrets about going with pasta.

Nico placed the flesh-light on the tabletop—which currently didn’t even have a tablecloth on top of it—and slid it across to where Will sat. “Is this what I think it is?” he said, startling Will from whatever pasta-dough related stupor he had found himself in.

Will looked first at Nico, then down at the object that came to a halt right in front of him. His eyes widened as he drank in the sight of the miniature silicone buttcheeks set into the sex-toy, as well as the tight pucker in the middle.

While Nico had been away, Will had focused on deeper, darker thoughts to ward away the redness on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized how bad an idea it was until he came to the edge of having an emotional breakdown. Only Nico’s intervention had snapped him out of it.

Unfortunately, whatever Will had set out to do was instantly undone by the sex-toy in front of him that his mind was now transfixed upon. The flesh-light was not what Will had expected. Will had expected another pair of dildos, maybe ones shaped after Will’s and Jason’s cocks.

The last thing that Will would have expected was a fleshlight.

“W-what?!” said Will, trying his best to not sound as alarmed at the sight as he felt deep inside. “Did Eros give you this?” He asked. He looked at Nico and averted his gaze as soon as he saw Nico shrug.

“I-it’s probably what you think it is…” said Will. He picked up the flesh-light and examined it, feeling the imminent threat of spontaneous combustion return to his face. His professional, medical side wanted to give Nico a lesson in how to properly use sex toys. His other side, his shier, less personable side, wanted to go and die in the nearest ditch out of embarrassment.

The corners of Nico’s mouth quirked up in a small smirk. “How do you use it?” he said, in as innocent and ignorant a voice as he could manage.

“Y-you put your—” Will could not help stammering. “Uh…” he looked at Nico and looked away almost instantly as he awkwardly inserted a finger into the silicone butthole that felt very much like his own, right down to the point where it almost clenched like his did. “ _Fuck,_ ” he thought to himself as his cock began to swell in his pants.

“Cock?” said Nico, the smirk on his face becoming more obvious. Will, in his embarrassment, still entirely missed the bemused expression on Nico’s face. “You can say it, Will,” he said. “I am not a child.”

“Y-yeah. S-sure. Your cock,” stammered Will. He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers of his one free hand. “Well, m-maybe put a condom on it first to make cleaning the toy easier. Umm… Don’t forget to lube it, too. Then you go—”

Will began to thrust his finger into and out of the hole. He had to bite back a moan as he felt a phantom sensation of the thrusting in his own ass. The lewd squelching that the thrusting made, and the way that the silicone clung to his finger reminded him of the many times he had fingered himself, inflaming his arousal once more.

“I gathered that much,” said Nico. He looked into Will’s eyes in the brief moment that their gazes connected. Will was entranced and didn’t look away. “So, tell me, Will. Is that yours?”

“W-what do you mean!?” said Will, the words coming out strangled, strained, and probably two octaves higher than he had meant them to.

“I’m asking if it’s your ass that’s in the flesh-light,” said Nico. “Or…” he continued, with a devious grin. “Should I ask Jason instead?”

“N-no!” said Will, just as Nico burst into guffawing laughter that simply refused to stop. The rollercoaster ride between anger, joy, sadness, and mirth only served to convince Nico that he was currently emotionally unstable, but the fact of the matter remained that Will’s expression was priceless.

It was not until Nico had stopped laughing and had wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes that Will finally, begrudgingly, said, “I-I think it might be.” Will took another deep breath and looked Nico in the eye. He managed for a heartbeat or two. “Eros gave me dildos. And I think one was yours.”

The comment gave Nico pause for a moment, and just as he was catching his breath from his previous outburst of laughter, another one hit. Will couldn’t help but awkwardly smile at the joy he seemed to have caused Nico. It was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He still didn’t quite know what to think of the fact that the laughter was at his own expense.

Then again, Will had to admit that the expression on his face must have been truly hilarious for Nico to descend into such an uncontrollable fit of giggles. The smile on his face became less awkward and more genuine as the musical peals of Nico’s laughter slowly and inexorably drew him closer to laughing himself.

\----------

It took quite some time before Nico and Will finally calmed down enough to even be capable of coherent words. It took even longer for the two of them to even have the capacity to have a decent conversation.

There was only one catch, of course. After laughing so hard at each other that they forgot what they were laughing about, an awkward silence descended between Nico and Will.

Nico looked down at his own reflection on the polished surface of the table while Will fidgeted in his seat, still sore from his sexual escapades the previous night. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me out with making lunch?” said Nico, after the longest time, with a smirk decorating his lips.

Will rolled his eyes and got up from his chair. He knew that Nico was only jesting with the implication of him not being useful. Well, when it came to the kitchen he probably _was_ , but only because he tended to forget about the things he was cooking and ended up burning them. “You could probably help chop up the garlic and the onion. You could then slice the tomatoes in half.”

Will tilted his head at Nico, an eyebrow raised in askance. The list of ingredients that Nico had rattled off seemed rather simple. Truth be told, he had expected something a little bit more extravagant, considering that Nico was making fresh pasta from scratch. “What are we having?” he said.

Nico, thankful for the growth spurt of the last three years, reached up into the drawers above the kitchen counter and pulled out a Celestial Bronze contraption that looked faintly like a pasta roller.

“What do you think we’re having?” said Nico, in a downright sassy tone of voice as he patted the ball of dough on the counter. It was just about rested. “We’re having spaghetti. What else would we be having on such short notice?”

“Oh I don’t know,” said Will with a shrug. He had to confess that he really didn’t know much about Italian food other than spaghetti and pizza. “I just… I suppose I was expecting something fancy because you were making fresh pasta and all.”

Nico rolled his eyes at Will. “What other way is there to make pasta?” he said, sarcastically. “Will, we don’t have time for fancy!”

Will raised his hands in defense. “Hey,” he said, “don’t yell at me. _You_ asked me a question.”

Nico rolled his eyes again. “Well, stop making stupid answers, then.”

Will walked over to the pantry and made an exaggerated grunting noise as he passed by Nico. “Ugh,” he said.

“Ugh yourself,” said Nico, a smile creeping into the corners of his lips at the banter.

Despite the little spat that they had about the relative complexity of the meal, Nico found that working with Will was actually a rather pleasant experience. The two of them worked together quite well, and so long as they didn’t touch too aggressively or too often, much everything ran smoothly.

Truly, the only problem that really came up was the time when Will reached into the cupboard to get a knife. He ended up taking out the whole knife holder and setting it on the counter, glaring at it with what Nico thought was misplaced anger.

Will grabbed one of the knives, which basically amounted to a Celestial Bronze dagger, and began to furiously chop garlic into fine pieces. At the same time, Will launched into a rant about how Celestial Bronze knives were totally unnecessary and that much safer fibreglass would have been just as good.

In the end, despite a number of minor fuckups along the way, Nico and Will actually managed to enjoy a halfway-decent traditional tomato sauce spaghetti. As far as Nico was concerned, it was less than halfway-decent because he only remembered that the recipe called for basil when he was done scarfing down his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. A new, short and sweet chapter. I don't know if you guys like the way that currently the fic has taken on more of a slice-of-life approach, showing you the day-to-day of this tenuous peace that everyone is currently enjoying.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter and how Nico seems to be much better adjusted despite having nightmares? Do you think Eros did the right thing by giving him an outlet for the disgust/anger that he's feeling?
> 
> Anyway, if you like the story thus far, leave a kudos. If you love me, leave me a comment! It will make my day. <3.


	40. A Day at the Training Grounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bit of a nod at my dear [Mab](http://mab-speaks.tumblr.com) for the nickname "sun-baby" :3.

Will squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. As he traced the edge of the yew bow that he held in his hands, he tried to visualize the tiny flame in his mind that Apollo had told him about. He tried to feed all of his concerns to the tiny flame but Apollo was making all of that difficult.

Will shivered as he feel the warmth of arms around his own. He could feel the ghosting of Apollo’s hot breath against his neck. “A bit too high on the elbow right here,” said Apollo, with a gentle tap to Will’s arm as a reminder that his form and posture was slightly off.

“I know, dad,” said Will. He fought down the twinge of unwanted arousal that he felt course through his entire body as Apollo tenderly traced the side of his arm, the touch feather-light over one of his veins.

“Dad,” stammered Will, pink blossoming upon his cheeks. “Dad,” he said again, though this time more firmly. “Stop,” he said, half-heartedly. It wasn’t like he really wanted Apollo to stop, just not in this place. Apollo’s finger paused. “We already went over how strong my arm needs to be before firing,” he said.

Nico, much to his credit, was sitting along the sidelines. Strands of his jet hair were plastered to his forehead from the round of sparring he’d just had with Hyacinthus. Crossing swords with the Spartan Prince had been quite the experience.

For much of his life as a demigod, the only real Spartans he’d gotten to spar with were the dead ones. As agile as they might have been with their spears, _xiphoi_ , and shields, they were _dead_. Facing off with a Spartan that was not only living but part-god provided the kind of challenge that Nico rather enjoyed.

Nico had won, thanks in no small part to how flustered Hyacinthus became when Will and Apollo took sides in the battle and started cheering. Will was genuinely helpful, and Nico was appreciative of that. Apollo, on the other hand, launched into a diatribe of things he would do to Hyacinthus’ ass if Hyacinthus lost.

Nico couldn’t quite believe how well things had settled down in the two days since he and Will had had pasta over lunch. Since then they had had quite a few more sessions. Nico couldn’t thank the gods enough that they were making decent progress.

Whatever the case was, Nico was just glad that things had managed to slip into some sort of normalcy. With the oncoming war looming just beyond the horizon, though, there was a palpable thread of tension all throughout the city and the camp.

Nico was just glad that he could experience this brief respite before everything went to shit again. He would never give Eros the satisfaction of a simpering thank you, but he was fairly certain that the Wyn fleshlight being available to him was helping him along rather nicely.

The fact that Nico could fuck the fleshlight with such violence and aggression as was inspired in him by his nightmares of Wyn made sure that he wouldn’t have to worry too much about suppressing his anger. He sincerely hoped that Eros wouldn’t expect a thank you from him. At least not for a while yet.

“Ow!” said Will, drawing Nico from his ruminations. “Dad!” protested the healer. “Could you please stop pinching my cheek?” Nico shook his head with a chuckle under his breath. “Ow! That is a cheek, too! You’re not supposed to be touching _that_ cheek!”

Nico had thought he and Will bickered quite a bit. It was to be expected since the two of them were rather sarcastic and stubborn, but most of it was done in good fun. As much as he had been convinced that he and Will bickered the most, he had to concede that even their banter was nothing compared to what was going on between Will and Apollo.

There was a gentle, rumbling chuckle from the half-god that was seated on the bench right beside Nico. “What a pervert,” said Zephyrus, winking at Nico as he shook his head in disbelief at what was going on in front of him.

Nico looked up at Zephyrus and cocked his head. Russet-coloured wings rustled as they stretched one way, and then the other. “Is he always like this?” said Nico, “Apollo, I mean?” Nico jerked his head in Apollo’s direction. “I’ve kind of always known that Will was one of those people that really liked physical contact, but I never would have thought Apollo would be much worse.”

Zephyrus snorted loudly, only to start choking on his drink. Will’s half-hearted whining at his father fell silent as Apollo and Hyacinthus turned to look at Zephyrus.

The West Wind waved his hand dismissively. He was alright. He would survive choking on a little liquid. The fit of coughing didn’t last very long, thankfully enough. “I wouldn’t really know,” said Zephyrus, placing a gentle hand on Nico’s shoulder.

Zephyrus looked into Nico’s eyes as a brief moment of silence fell upon the two of them. He then looked in the direction of Will and Apollo, being far too intimate for being father-and-son. “You wouldn’t happen to be jealous of all that, would you?” said Zephyrus, twirling his hand in a subtle gesture at the two blonds.

“You know what?” said Zephyrus, leaning back as he placed his drink down on the bench beside him. “In my experience, yes, he’s always been touchy. More so now after we got Hyacinthus back, to be entirely honest. He’s been all over us ever since.”

“Honestly,” said Zephyrus with another shake of his head and a chuckle. “After thousands of years of nurturing crushing guilt and a guilty crush on this goof of a god, having him fawning all over me isn’t really a bad thing anymore.” Zephyrus’ voice turned somewhat somber. “I’ve been waiting a very long time.”

Nico rolled his eyes and laughed. The sound was musical as it echoed in the suddenly-quiet shooting range. Nico turned a slight shade of pink as Will looked at him with a shy smile. “Honestly,” said Nico, leaning back like Zephyrus and looking over at the half-god. “I don’t mind.”

Nico looked at Zephyrus and the way that the West Wind reclined back. There was a tension to Zephyrus’ shoulders that he hadn’t seen before. It was a tension that was more than familiar to him.

There was something about Zephyrus that made Nico relax in his presence. Nico couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but there was some part of him that was convinced that Zephyrus was a kindred soul to him. Haunted by ghosts of his past but getting through them with the help of important people. “I can’t even think of… _being_ with him like that,” said Nico, surprised at the way that the words just slipped out of him.

“If you can’t,” said Zephyrus, managing to sound both serious and flippant at the same time; “You shouldn’t have to.” Zephyrus shrugged. “It’s okay to be in love with someone but not want to have sex with them.”

“But that’s the thing,” said Nico, leaning forward on the bench. He glanced at Zephyrus and took a deep breath. He truthfully couldn’t quite believe he was talking to Zephyrus like this. “I _want_ to… _be_ with him like that, but I just can’t bring myself to think about it.”

Zephyrus placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder again and squeezed. Much to Nico’s surprise, the gesture was comforting. “I know what you mean,” said Zephyrus as he looked over at where Hyacinthus was struggling with a compound bow that Zephyrus had somehow managed to procure for him.

“I spent so much of the last couple thousand of years daydreaming about Apollo and Hyacinthus,” said Zephyrus, with a sad smile. “I wanted them both and I couldn’t decide. But because I was stupid, I lost them both.” Zephyrus shook his head. “And then after that, even if I wanted to be with Apollo, even thinking about it made me sick to my stomach because all I could feel was revulsion at myself. I didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve someone like me. He deserved better.”

A shiver ran down Nico’s spine. Those were the exact same thoughts that plagued him whenever he thought about having sex with Will. He was well aware that they were in a relationship, and was more than happy about that. It probably wasn’t true for anyone else, but for Nico, having sex with Will was pretty much consummating the relationship and at the moment, he didn’t think he deserved that.

“It’s difficult to stop thinking that,” said Zephyrus, more understanding on his voice than Nico had expected. “But hey, the people that love you would never have chosen you if they didn’t think that you were the right person for them.”

Nico looked at Zephyrus, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. “Thanks,” he said; “But to be honest, if he has to lean on someone else while we work on our problems together, I don’t think I would mind too much.”

Nico shook his head. “It takes so much energy being angry and being jealous. I don’t think it’s worth it. As long as he tells me about it, I think I’ll be fine,” he said. He and Will had been making a whole lot of progress, especially when it came to the touch-aversion that trauma with Wyn had left ingrained in Nico.

The touch-aversion wasn’t nearly as crippling as it had been before, but Nico still couldn’t quite resist pulling away when it was Will that tried to initiate anything. He could handle kisses on the forehead now, and a little handholding—thank the gods—but that was about it. Anything that went on for too long or was a bit too intimate for Nico’s liking invariably threatened to trigger a full-blown panic attack.

Nico had ended up curled up on the floor in tears more than a few times over the last two days, but Will’s constant gentle reminders to breathe had gotten him through a lot of it. “Gods,” said Nico, with a bitter, half-hearted laugh. “Gods know that we both need more people than just each other right now,” he said.

“I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, or what sort of demons are haunting you both,” said Zephyrus, squeezing Nico’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. If Nico was being entirely honest, _he_ didn’t know either. He was beginning to feel bad he hadn’t asked Will about the whole self-harm thing yet.

“But,” said Zephyrus, nodding his head in Apollo’s direction with  a smile. “He seems to think that you’re part of the family already, and Fates know when he gets things into his head he never lets them go,” said Zephyrus. “That’s good enough for me, and for what it’s worth, I hope you and the sun-baby get through this much stronger than you were before.”

Nico’s ears perked up at the sound of the words “sun-baby.” Had he perhaps stumbled upon a nickname that would make Will sputter as much as “death-boy” made _him_ sputter?

“Sun-baby?” said Nico, eyes twinkling with thinly-veiled amusement at the name. “I like that,” he said.

Nico glanced at Will just as Will let loose his first arrow of the day. The arrow sailed through the air at much too steep an angle and promptly embedded itself about four inches into the solid stone of the stone ceiling.

“Look!” said Apollo, perhaps a little bit too enthusiastic for whatever it was he was trying to accomplish. From Nico’s perspective, Apollo seemed like a father trying too hard to look good in his son’s eyes. “You’re strong enough to drive an arrow right through stone. Now let’s just work on actually sending it where it needs to go.”

“I know that, dad!” said Will, indignantly, as the redness on his cheeks blossomed into scarlet. “Isn’t that the whole _point_ of archery? What the fuck are you going to do with a bone and arrow if you’re not going to hit your target?”

Even from where Nico sat, he could see Apollo roll his eyes. He could also see Apollo’s arms, that had been holding Will’s arms in perfect posture for archery, travel teasingly down Will’s sides. The way that Will squirmed with arousal and half-hearted indignation brought mirth to Nico’s eyes.

“Apollo!” said Zephyrus, calling out from the bench with a chuckle in his voice. Hyacinthus, Will, and Apollo all turned to look at Zephyrus as the West Wind leaned back nonchalantly. “Let us be real. You only want to know what it feels like to fuck yourself, so stop being so forward with your mirror-image of a son,” he said.

Will knew that the comments were meant in jest, but he couldn’t help but sort-of want to die right then and there.

Apollo didn’t let go of Will’s waist. Meanwhile, Hyacinthus, after taking a moment to process what had just been said let out such an intense howl of laughter that he dropped the compound bow he’d just been fiddling with. “Are you sure, Zephyrus?” said Hyacinthus, with a smirk. “I would think Apollo would want to find out how it feels to _get fucked_ by himself.”

“Oh, silly me,” said Zephyrus, mockingly fanning himself with his fingers. He shot a look at Will that told the son of Apollo he would be taking care of the way-too-touchy-feely father that was all over him.

“You’re right, Hyacinthus,” said Zephyrus, with a smirk. “Apollo the power-bottom,” teased the West Wind; “Imagine what Zeus would say.” Zephyrus bared his teeth in the kind of shit-eating grin that, had it been on anyone else’s face save for Hyacinthus, would have thrown Apollo into a seething rage.

Knowing that Zephyrus was simply teasing, however, Apollo swallowed the embarrassment that was welling up from his stomach. He puffed out his chest and strolled in a forcibly nonchalant way toward Zephyrus. “Oh yeah?” said Apollo, stopping only when he was standing almost toe-to-toe with the West Wind.

Nico watched as Will, visibly trembling where he stood, lowered his bow to his side. Will let out a long, sigh of relief and looked at Nico, something unreadable in his eyes. Nico frowned with worry. He hadn’t thought that things were too bad. He had thought that Will was secretly enjoying himself.

Nico looked into Will’s eyes as Apollo pressed himself against Zephyrus. Will looked back into Nico’s. Nico could tell that Will was afraid, but he wasn’t quite sure what of. Nico motioned Will over to where he sat and watched as slowly, with stiff, mechanical motions, Will walked over to him.

“Is everything alright?” said Nico as he patted the seat next to him. Will sat down in a daze, eyes focused on some random point in the distance. He reached over and squeezed Will’s arm, jolting the son of Apollo from whatever stupor he’d managed to find himself mired in.

“T-that depends,” said Will, looking at Nico as his hands trembled uncontrollably. “W-were you o-okay with everything that was happening over there?” said Will, nodding his head in the direction of the lane where he’d been standing earlier.

Nico looked over at Apollo and Zephyrus. He could hear their conversation. He was pretty sure everyone else in the range could hear it. “Let’s see who’s a power-bottom when I get my hands and my cock in that ass of yours,” said Apollo to Zephyrus, puffing out his chest as he took another step forward and ground his hips against the West Wind’s.

Hyacinthus looked rather interested in the whole affair, but was unwilling leave his spot. “You’ll have to catch the West Wind first,” said Zephyrus playfully as his form blurred. He was dissipating into his wind-form.

“Oh,” said Apollo, with a grin to rival the one that Zephyrus had had on his face earlier. “No, you don’t,” said Apollo, tribal patterns curled around his arms glowing with power as he seized Zephyrus’ wrists and held them above Zephyrus’ head. He moved forward, quick as light itself and pinned the West Wind against the wall.

“Didn’t you know?” said Apollo, nuzzling the side of Zephyrus’ face. “I can be quite fast, too.”

“Ooh,” said Zephyrus, taunting Apollo with a smirk. “Really think you’re that good, huh?” Zephyrus bit at Apollo’s jaw. “Prove it, sunshine,” he said. Zephyrus wrapped his thighs around Apollo’s waist and groaned as Apollo pressed him against the wall.

Apollo caught Zephyrus’ lips in his own. He took one hand and used it to press both of Zephyrus’ wrists to the wall above the West Wind’s head. “Mine,” Apollo growled possessively when the two of them parted for breath. Zephyrus could only moan in response.

Nico could feel something stirring within him, particularly around his groin area. He looked at Will and saw that the son of Apollo was also watching with rapt attention. “Yeah,” said Nico, breaking the silence that had descended upon the two of them.

“What?” said Will, turning around to face Nico with a fearful look in his eyes. Nico wished that look would go away. He was used to other people being afraid of him, but seeing it from Will _hurt_. “You’re not jealous?” asked Will.

All of a sudden, Nico didn’t feel too bad from seeing the fear in Will’s eyes. In fact, he just wanted to chuckle. Something was telling him this wasn’t all that was up, but he didn’t think it would be too wise to press on any further. “No, I’m not. My turn to ask a question. Are you always that… horny?” he said, jerking his head in the direction of Apollo.

Will turned a pretty shade of scarlet as he attempted to stammer through a response. “N-no,” he said. “W-well, maybe. A-a little. N-not as bad as dad, though,” he said, looking down at his feet.

“Hey,” said Nico, squeezing Will’s arm. It seemed neither he nor Will had remembered he was still holding on. Will jumped where he sat at the sensation of the squeeze. “It’s okay to be _horny_ ,” said Nico, the word rolling off of his tongue like a square wheel; “We’re young. We’re in our prime. It’s kind of expected of us.”

“Y-you’re right,” said Will, nodding. “D-do you ever feel the same way?” he said, shooting Nico a nervous smile. “D-do you ever kind of just feel something stirring down there and fervently wishing it would go away?”

Nico laughed, the sound small and slightly sad. “Even you have had more experience being a teen than me, and I was thirteen for eighty years!” There was a hint of regret on Nico’s voice, but it didn’t seem like losing much of his life was too great a burden on Nico’s shoulders. “I never had to go through that. And now, when I should be, even the thought of sex makes me sick.”

“O-oh,” said Will. Will turned his eyes to the floor, shoulders slumping forward. “I-I’m sorry,” said Will.

“Hey,” said Nico, patting Will gingerly on the shoulder. “Don’t feel too bad. We’ve been working on this, right? We’re making progress.” Nico shook his head. Will needed his help as much as he needed Will’s. It was… interesting, to say the least. “You shouldn’t feel bad for something that you can’t help.”

Nico took a deep breath and steeled himself. He wrapped his fingers around Will’s shoulder and pulled the son of Apollo back into a sitting position. “You listen to me,” said Nico, as Will looked at him with apologetic eyes. “Don’t be sorry. If you ever need to sleep with someone, just tell me, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“B-but I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you,” said Will, before Nico could finish. Nico rolled his eyes. “No, seriously,” said Will, biting his lip. Nico’s disbelief stung a little bit. “Honestly,” he said.

“I know,” said Nico. He shook his head and squeezed Will’s shoulder sympathetically. “But I also know that you have needs that you have to fulfil. Do what you need to do to make sure you’re healthy. If it’s Jason and he agrees, even better. I just want you to think of yourself, too, okay?”

Will sniffled and looked at Nico. It never failed to surprise Will that with all the terrible shit that Nico had gone through over the years, Nico still had compassion and humanity within him. “Okay,” said Will, flashing a weak smile at Nico; “Thank you.”

Will jerked his head in the direction of where Apollo and Zephyrus were still heatedly making out against the wall just by the entrance to the range. “I don’t think I want to have to deal with _that_ any time soon,” said Will. “Dad’s just… a little bit too much for me.”

A smile twisted Nico’s lips as he fought down guffawing laughter. “That’s saying something, coming from you,” said Nico teasingly. He removed his hand from around Will’s shoulder and scooted a few inches away from the inevitable retaliation from Will.

“Excuse you?!” said Will, the somber expression melting away from his face and body but not his eyes. “Are you saying _I’m_ too much to handle?” he said with mock-affront. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, death-boy?” he said as he stuck his tongue out at Nico.

“Have _you_ , sun-baby?” retorted Nico to the sound of Will’s flustered choking.

“W-what did you call me?” stammered Will. His eyes were wide open. He was staring at Nico as though Nico had grown a second head, or had suddenly turned into Cerberus. “S-sun-baby?” he said, blushing as furiously as he thought was possible.

Nico raised his hands in the air. “It was Zephyrus’ idea,” he said, nonchalantly. He smirked as he glanced in the direction of the writhing bundle of limbs that was Zephyrus and Apollo. The two were so absorbed in each other, they seemed to have forgotten they were in a training facility.

Truth be told, Will rather liked the nickname. Being called “sun-baby” had simply caught him off guard. Before he could say anything else, however, the doors to the training grounds slammed open and one Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano strode in, wearing her purple cape and full Praetor regalia. She had a longbow slung over her shoulder and a smirk on her regal face.

“I bring good tidings,” Reyna declared as she spread her arms to the training grounds. She looked pointedly at Nico, and then over her shoulder as the doors closed behind her. “And I bring a couple of idiots, as well!”

Nico couldn’t help but smile at Reyna’s entrance. He was glad to see that she had had a good last three years. Maybe it was just him, but travelling across the world with someone whilst carrying and guarding a 40-foot statue of gold and ivory felt like the basis of a very good friendship.

Nico motioned Reyna over, but Reyna just happened to look over to her other side and spotted Apollo and Zephyrus, practically sucking each other’s faces off. “Boys,” she said, in as stern a voice as she could muster, “this is a place for archery and duelling swords. Actual swords, mind you. Maybe get a room?”

Apollo and Zephyrus pushed away from each other with such speed that Will blinked to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. The two turned red and muttered quick apologies to Reyna before walking over to Hyacinthus, who was still laughing despite the bits of arrow sticking out of his arm.

“Greek gods,” said Reyna, shaking her head as she walked over to where Nico and Will were sat with martial poise. “No concept of discipline whatsoever.”

When finally Reyna stood before Will and Nico, she bent down and gave Will a kiss on the cheek. She then turned to Nico and grabbed the son of Hades’ forearm. Nico didn’t protest the touch. Reyna pulled Nico up to his feet and hugged him as tightly as she could. Nico actually appreciated the gesture.

“Good to see you, Reyna,” said Nico, with a genuine smile. He held Reyna at arm’s length when the two of them finally pulled apart. His hands were on her shoulders and hers were on his. “How are the preparations going over by New Rome?”

“They’re going,” said Reyna. There was a slight quirk to her words that suggested she didn’t quite approve of where things were headed. “Not that there’s any other way the preparations could go if we’re to survive what’s coming, right?” Reyna shook her head sadly. “Your… friend has been helpful setting up the towers of daylight, but other than an effective barrier, the legion is still woefully under-armed for what’s to come.”

“Even Imperial Gold is not good enough on its own, no,” said Nico. He shook his head as well. Times were looking rather grim, but they had a few more days to relax and have a little fun before the storm hit. “More help should be on the way before too long.”

Reyna sighed. “I hope so,” she said. There was a moment of silence that descended upon Reyna and Nico as the praetor removed her arms from Nico’s shoulders and took a step away.

“Well,” said Reyna, the levity returning to her face as she bared a feral grin at Nico. She drew her gladius from her belt and almost seemed to thrum with energy as it grew into a spear. “How about we see who’s better on the field of battle, _graecus_?”

Nico laughed at the taunt. He knew that there was no hope in heaven or hell that Reyna would beat him. “You know I will defeat you, right, praetor?” he retorted. Reyna scoffed in mock-disbelief though her eyes showed that she simply wanted the experience.

“In your dreams, di Angelo,” said Reyna, with a grin, as she walked over to the sparring ring.

Nico unclasped his drakonskin cloak from around his shoulders and slid it carefully into his arms. He gently folded it as he turned back to face Will. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked, genuine concern on his voice. He spoke soft enough so that only Will could hear him.

Will nodded. “Can you hang on to this for me for now?” said Nico, leaning forward.

“Come on, _graecus_ ,” called Reyna; “Let’s get started before the idiots get here.”

“This will be quick,” said Nico with a wink as he gently lay the drakonskin cloak across Will’s arms. He could feel a momentary hiss of anger vibrate through the cloak as it left him, but it purred contentedly the moment that it touched Will.

Much to his credit, Will only slightly jumped when he felt the cloak come alive in his arms.

Nico and Reyna hadn’t even crossed weapons yet when the doors flew open, revealing pretty much everyone that had been on the Argo II and Rachel. Once everyone got their bearings, Piper made a beeline for Will, while Rachel bounded off to talk to Apollo. Annabeth, on the other hand, was trying to distract Percy from the shooting range.

Reyna and Nico shared a concerned look as Hazel and Frank walked over, interested in the sparring that was about to go down. “Just pretend you don’t see the idiots,” said Reyna, hefting her spear. The sound of Imperial Gold clashing against Stygian Iron rang out in the range.

No more than two minutes later, Reyna and Nico both stopped in their tracks at the sound of a muffled explosion. Everyone in the training grounds turned to see what was going on.

A very plainly disgruntled and exasperated Annabeth ran over to where Percy was lying on the ground, steam rising from his clothes, twitching uncontrollably. “You idiot!” she said.

“I’m okay, thanks for asking. And I can totally stand on my own. Thanks for helping,” said Percy, groaning as he pushed himself up from where he’d landed on his back. Steam was still rising from his skin, and while he was sure he had peed himself a little bit, there was a grin on his face.

“You deserve no help!” said Annabeth, hitting Percy right in the middle of the chest with the flat of her fist. “What the fuck was that? Where did you even get all that seawater? Who the fuck told you it was a good idea to try and block a bolt of fucking _lightning_ with a wall of fucking _saltwater_?”

Whistling in a lame attempt to escape Annabeth’s wrath, Percy and Jason simultaneously pointed at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely finished this chapter just this morning. I'm sorry, but I've been absorbed creating a D&D campaign for my friends and have devoted so much of my time to that. XD.
> 
> However, this is one of two more scenes that I want to happen before everything goes to shit, so The Years of My Longing is almost at its end! Woot! And... Boo! :3. Well, whatever the case. What did you think of this chapter? How did you like it? I know it's been a slow last couple of chapters, but they deserve it. XD. Slice-of-life chapters right now, then we'll launch into epic-scale shit again soon.
> 
> Anyway, if you liked the story so far, leave a kudos! If you like meeeee, leave a comment so I'll be happy. :D.


	41. At Day's End

The sun was near the horizon by the time that everyone else in the training grounds, apart from Nico and Will, began to slowly trickle out. Jason and Percy were one of the first to go, cleaning up the mess they had left as they went. Annabeth made sure they didn’t miss a single thing.

Nico was still not quite sure how the two idiots had managed to completely torch one of the training dummies in the far corner of the training grounds. Leo had arrived at some point in the day to say hi, but didn’t stay, so Nico was fairly certain it wasn’t Leo that had set fire to the dummy.

Whatever the case was, the dummy wasn’t even the biggest fumble the two had done in the day. They had also somehow managed to break all but one of the archery targets in the range _and_ ruin an entire barrel of fletchings with seawater.

Suffice to say that neither Jason nor Percy were very happy with the amount that they had to pay out of their own wallets for the damages they had caused. They had also had to put in the labour to bring in the replacements for the stuff that they had managed to destroy.

Apollo, Zephyrus and Hyacinthus had left soon after, much to the relief of everyone in the training grounds at the time .Reyna and Nico had finished their spar by then, but even they could feel the thick sexual tension in the air between the three.

Nico couldn’t know what the others thought, but the possibility that the three half-gods might decide then and there to drop to the ground and have sex was a niggling concern on the back of his mind. He didn’t have too much of a problem with it, but he felt it was to begin with rather inappropriate to do in the training grounds and unsafe by any stretch of the imagination.

Hazel and Frank had left not too long ago, as well. The two had taken to sparring after watching Nico and Reyna having a go at each other for quite some time.

As they left, Hazel, in her typical fashion, had of course gone up to Will and Nico and hugged them both with a warmth that was, truth be told, unfamiliar to either of them. Frank, on the other hand, in _his_ typical fashion, hovered behind Hazel and awkwardly shook their hands before departing.

There was no question that Frank Zhang had, over the last three years, grown to become a strong praetor in his own right, but Nico was pretty sure that much like him, Frank had a long way to go when it came to social skills.

Nico leaned back where he sat on the bench and looked over to where Annabeth was just finishing up the work she had inadvertently given herself. She was currently tracing her fingers along one of the columns in the back of the building and jotting down notes in a clipboard she had somehow conjured out of her backpack.

Nico was aware that Annabeth had originally come to the training grounds not only to spend some time with him, but also to beat Percy over the head with a sword.

Nico could only consider it unfortunate that Annabeth did not have the time to spend doing the latter. Annabeth had found herself busily examining the integrity of the structure of the training grounds throughout the day. Nico could tell, though, that Annabeth actually liked doing what she did.

Nico could see from the way that Annabeth seemed to thrum with vibrant energy that she _loved_ doing this, that she was satisfied with what she had accomplished throughout the day. Granted, Nico had absolutely _no_ idea what it was that she had evaluated the building for, but he was glad that she was smiling.

Truth be told, Nico had been more than a little bit awed when he learned that Annabeth had helped design and build the entire city. The training grounds alone was massive and ornate, and it felt all the more imposing since it was yet to be opened to the other residents and was quite empty.

Reyna was just off taking a shower while her newfound partner in life—Rachel Elizabeth Dare—was sitting next to Nico, busily working on a drawing. Nico wouldn’t have suspected it back then, but he was glad that Reyna had found some measure of happiness. He was glad that everyone else seemed to have had a decent last three years. Gods knew they would need the strength of those happy memories for what was yet to come.

“How much longer is this going to take?” whined Will, who was standing off in the distance, trying and failing to hold a proper archer’s pose.

“It’s almost done!” said Rachel, looking up from her sketchpad, looking at the way that Will’s arms were trembling, and clucking with displeasure. “Come on, man, keep it up. It’s only been half an hour. Annabeth could certainly do it!”

Annabeth looked up from where she was just zipping up her backpack and laughed. “You can do it, Will,” she said with a grin. Annabeth walked over to where Nico was seated and pulled him up to his feet. She gave him a hug to which he did not protest. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she said, with tears in her eyes.

“Hey,” said Nico, gently. “Don’t get too excited. We have another war coming right on my tail,” he said. It was a reminder that things weren’t exactly as they seemed. It was a reminder that just as always, Nico brought troubled tidings with him.

Annabeth shrugged and squeezed Nico’s shoulders. “Does it matter?” she said, then laughed. “Of course the war matters, but what matters most is that you’re here now. You’re home,” said Annabeth. She pressed a quick kiss to Nico’s cheek and tapped the area. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and buy red food colouring for Percy’s pancakes tomorrow. He better learn not to ruin my training grounds’ floor ever again.”

“Now that’s just mean,” teased Nico, with a chuckle. As much as the sight of Annabeth would have hurt him all those years ago, he had truly moved on and was just glad that his friends were happy—at least for the time being.

“But I do have to ask,” said Nico, a twinge of hesitation in his voice. It was as though he regretted having to ask the question. “How are the towers coming along?”

“They’re coming along just fine, Nico,” said Annabeth, with a smile. “We’ve been working the cyclopes and your father’s skeletons to death. Well, the cyclopes, at least.” Annabeth squeezed Nico’s shoulders. “Apollo’s powering up the towers that are already done. We should have a strong enough barrier to hold back the majority of Nyx’s forces three days from now if the Nameless One is to be believed.”

“Don’t trust him,” said Nico, with a nervous laugh. “Well, don’t trust his words. He’s way older than any of the gods and he plays for the long game even if it is our best interests that’re in his heart.”

“Oh believe me,” said Annabeth, eyes narrowing at the floor. No one wanted a third war in less than a decade. “But what choice do we have? We’ve already been attacked once, and the towers repelled the beasts.”

“There is always a choice,” said Nico, looking off into the distance, “and there is always a price.” He took Annabeth’s hands in his own and squeezed them.

“What?” said Annabeth, confusion clouding her grey eyes for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Nico. “Be safe,” he said, taking a step back from her to sit down on the bench, ending the conversation before Annabeth could ask any more questions that would only place her in greater danger.

“Is she the one?” said Rachel, not looking up from her sketch. Even though her eyes were not on him, Nico could almost feel them boring into his soul.

Nico simply couldn’t find the words to answer Rachel’s questions. As much as he wanted to, the answer was simply too damn painful to suffer speaking. “I figured as much,” said Rachel, a grim determination to her voice. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” Silence. “Thought so.”

Will made an inarticulate whine of discomfort as Rachel put the final touches on her drawing. Despite the weariness that he could see in the slump of Will’s shoulders and the slight circles under Will’s eyes, and the general paleness that _still_ to some extent hung about Will, Nico could understand why Rachel decided to make him her subject.

“Aaaaaand…” said Rachel, jolting Nico out of the trance-like staring he’d been in the middle of. “Done.” Rachel looked up and turned her sketchbook to Nico with a smile and took Nico’s breath away.

In stark contrast to the way that Will stood presently, Nico could see the stronger set of Will’s shoulders in the sketch. He could see the nigh-on perfect posture of the Will in the drawing, arms strong and holding the bow up much unlike how they were doing so in real life.

Nico was convinced that he could even see the glow of Will’s skin in the graphite, somehow. Above all that, however, the most enthralling aspect of the drawing that Rachel had done was the shocking blue colour of Will’s eyes. The only part of Will not cast in black, grey, and white.

Rachel winked at Nico, tore the page out of her sketchbook, and handed it to him. “You are going to need this, I think,” she said, with a gentle pat on his shoulder. “Now,” said Rachel, mischief playing upon her lips; “I’ve been informed by the people that told me of Annabeth that there is something that you need to give me.”

Nico did not question the statement. He had a fairly good idea who, exactly, were acting as Rachel’s informants. He nodded with solemnity and reached into the voluminous internal folds of his drakonskin cloak.

Nico wrapped his fingers around one of the most fragile and most precious artifacts that the Nameless One had bequeathed upon him at the end of his tutelage. Just as Will sighed with relief and the sound of an arrow sailing across the air echoed across the now-empty training grounds, Nico retrieved a scroll from his cloak.

Nico tried not to look at the object, since it was a colour that seemed, somehow, to be whiter than the purest white he could imagine. Simply looking upon it hurt his eyes with its glow, and that was considering the fact that the Nameless One had enhanced him physically.

Rachel, on the other hand, seemed enraptured by the object. Her eyes were veiled by a thin green mist that protected them. “This is it?” she said, both with awe and apprehension. Nico nodded but once again said nothing. He brought the scroll to his lips and whispered to it words in a language that Rachel had never even _heard of_ before.

With his free hand, Nico pulled an obsidian dagger from his drakonskin cloak. “By the pricking of my thumb,” said Nico, in a form of Old English that somehow Rachel was able to understand; “Something wicked this way comes.” Nico drew the very tip of the dagger against his thumb and smeared the blood against the pristine scroll.

Three heartbeats passed and the scroll began to swirl with scarlet and crimson. “Shakespeare, really?” said Rachel, shaking her head from side to side. “Couldn’t you have spoken that other really cool language you just spoke?”

Nico shook his head with a chuckle. Moments later, the red colours of the scroll began to give way to greens and blues, and then even those gave way to a myriad of other colours. Some of them had names, but many of them didn’t. Many of them were even incomprehensible to the mundane mortal mind.

“The scroll of Learning” said Nico, handing the object over to Rachel. “It teaches only one thing, and that thing alone. It teaches knowledge that cannot be known through any other way.” Nico shook his head and chuckled. “No matter how hard I want to. No matter how hard I try. I will not be able to find the words to describe to you this terrible power.”

“The Nameless One made sure that all the words that could were eradicated from existence itself. Other than, of course, here, in the scroll of Learning.” A small smile crept over Nico’s lips as a wax seal that had not been on the scroll before revealed itself to Rachel. She broke the seal. “Perhaps it is better that way. If others learned of this terrible power, surely they would abuse it.”

Rachel unfurled the scroll and gasped, her throat constricting around her next breath. Shifting golden-silver letters of innumerable languages flew into Rachel’s eyes, settling in the very seat of her soul. Slowly, the scroll came apart in Rachel’s hands, its pieces turning to golden mist that entered her through her eyes, tongue, nose, ears, and skin.

“This is…” Rachel paused with awe. “I-I can’t seem to find the words to describe it,” she said, far more enthusiastic than she knew she should be. The power that she held at her fingertips was terrifying to behold and more than intoxicating.

“That is the way that it is meant to be,” said Nico, cryptically. Golden mist streamed from the very tips of Rachel’s fingers as she gave in to the temptation of using her newfound powers for something rather mundane, but something that she had always dreamt of doing.

Nico watched warily as between Rachel’s hands, a point of _something_ appeared. Slowly, inexorably, it grew and grew until it became a cube. At that point it began to shrink back into a dot.

Nico turned his eyes over to where Will was standing. The sound of an arrow clattering to the floor had grabbed his attention from what Rachel was doing. Will was looking utterly confused at the scene that was unfolding before him—at the sight of Rachel working magic. It was pretty common knowledge, after all, that apart from being a rather good artist hosting the spirit of the Oracle, Rachel Elizabeth Dare was a mortal with the Sight.

“ _I’ll explain later_ ,” mouthed Nico as he turned his eyes back to the growing and shrinking cube between Rachel’s fingers. At first, he thought that the cube was simply that, a cube that Rachel was expanding and contracting at will, but he soon realized that it was more than it seemed when it began to rotate.

Nico squeezed his eyes shut and willed the augmented Sight, that the Nameless One had given him, into being. He looked at the space that was supposed to be between Rachel’s hands and laughed in the abstract way that one would about a dimension so unfamiliar it was mind-boggling.

“Is that a tesseract?” said Nico, looking up from the object to Rachel. Rachel’s eyes were glowing with a golden light that he was sure masked his own.

Nico squeezed his eyes shut and willed his normal vision to return. He chuckled when he opened them again and the cube was expanding and contracting between Rachel’s fingers. “This is indeed a tesseract,” said Rachel, with an awed smile upon her face. “I never thought I would be able to see and interact with one—much less comprehend it,” she said.

“Comprehend what, Dare?” came the voice of Reyna. The Roman praetor was strolling out from the locker room and showers, tousling her still-damp hair with a purple hand-towel.

There was something about the way that Reyna walked toward Nico and Rachel that simply oozed grace and confidence. Maybe it was the way that there was a small smirk on her face or the panther-like set of her steps. Nico wouldn’t know. He was pretty sure that even if he managed to become king of _somewhere_ , he wouldn’t ever possess the bearing that Reyna did.

Reyna looked at Nico and nodded respectfully. They had called their earlier duel a draw. Neither one of them could get much of a headway against the other though Reyna, for better or for worse, had managed to give Nico the fight of his life.

Admittedly, both young warriors knew that blow for blow, Nico was vastly more powerful than Reyna. That much had become apparent from the beginning of their spar. However, Nico had been holding back the truly terrible strength that his tutelage under the Nameless One had given him.

Reyna, on the other hand, had been bolstered by her mother. Nico could tell from the way that she had a slight glow of divinity around her. He was sure that Bellona and Reyna, together, were testing him. He knew that by the end of it all, he had surpassed every single challenge they set before him with relative ease.

In much the same way as Nico had done for Will earlier, Rachel turned to Reyna and whispered “ _I’ll try to explain later_.” Reyna simply shrugged nonchalantly. She trusted Rachel enough to know that Rachel would have told her already if it wasn’t inappropriate to do so.

Rachel reverently tucked her pencils into her pencil-case and slid _that_ into one of the pockets of her backpack. She carefully placed her sketchbook in her bag as well and zipped everything up, looking it all over to make sure nothing important was hanging out.

“You look good like this,” said Rachel, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she rose to her feet. She traced the side of Reyna’s cheek with her index finger and smiled. She pressed a kiss to the line of Reyna’s jaw.

“Hmm…” said Reyna, closing her eyes and humming rather contentedly as Rachel continued to kiss her in slightly-inappropriate ways. Nico looked away from the scene, blushing. He felt as though he was intruding on something private. Thankfully the affection triggered nothing within him since they were both women.

“I bet I do,” said Reyna, the smirk on her face not once faltering. Rachel took a step back and grinned at Reyna. “I just took a shower, after all,” said the praetor, with a raised eyebrow. “Are you trying to imply that I don’t bathe as often as I should Dare?” said Reyna with mock-sternness.

“Mm…” said Rachel, trailing off as she winked playfully at Reyna. “Maybe.” Reyna responded with a playful sniff.

Nico looked up as he saw Rachel’s shoes approaching him. He looked into her eyes as she kissed him on the cheek. “Be strong,” she said, her voice equal parts light and grim. Nico could tell that she was aware of some of the things that were coming. That she knew the role he would play.

“Gods know that we’ll need you most of all in the coming days,” said Rachel. “We’ll have to talk again when all of this blows over, okay?”

Nico could only nodded. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he would even be around to talk when all was said and done. Rachel turned to Reyna, who had walked up behind her, and kissed the praetor on the cheek. “I’ll wait for you outside,” Rachel said.

“I’m sure you’d like to talk to our not-so-little-anymore angel over here,” Rachel continued, with a chuckle. She waved her hand nonchalantly and walked off, her first footstep punctuated by the twang of a bowstring and the whistling of an arrow as it flew across the range.

Just as Nico heard the thunk of the arrow hitting the target, and before Nico could ask what Reyna wanted to talk to him about, he was caught up in a familiar, tight warm hug. “I heard you were having trouble with Will,” she said under her breath, looking at him with almost-sisterly concern.

Nico shook his head with a small smile. “I wasn’t having trouble _because_ of Will, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said when Reyna was finally done trying to crush him with her arms. “It’s about someone in my past and it’s horribly personal.”

Nico raised his eyes to meet Reyna’s. He begged, without saying any words that she not pursue the delicate matter any further. The last thing that Nico wanted was to have a panic attack in front of her, brought about by memories of Wyn.

“Okay, okay,” said Reyna, taking a cautious step back. She reached across the distance and squeezed Nico’s shoulder after a moment. “I was just checking up on you, you know?” she said. “Just making sure you’re okay. We don’t want you to leave again when you’ve just come back.”

Nico could not help but chuckle, the sound almost self-deprecating. As far as he knew, he was staying for a very long time. He wasn’t leaving unless he had to. “But,” said Reyna, stretching her neck from side to side as she cracked her knuckles; “If you ever need to dish out some hurt, I’m here for you.”

Nico couldn’t help but laugh, feeling even more of the burden on his chest lifted. It was one thing to know that his friends had his back, but it was another entirely to hear it from their own mouths.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow,” said Reyna, a hopeful tone in her voice. Reyna gripped Nico’s forearm, and he turned his hand to grip her forearm as well. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, looking down at where Nico’s hand was clutched around her arm. Reyna smiled and Nico smiled back. “Stay safe,” she said.

“Me, safe?” said Nico, shaking his head with mirth as Reyna walked away from him. She turned around and raised an eyebrow in his direction. “You are aware that you’re talking to _me_ , right?” he said. Reyna could only laugh and shake her head. “I’ll try,” he said, “how about that?”

“Alright,” said Reyna, shooting him a glance that told him she meant every word that she was speaking. “I will hold you to that, di Angelo,” she said, just as she bumped up against the door. She stepped out of the training grounds with a final wave of her hand.

When Reyna was truly gone, Nico sat back down on his bench. He raised his eyes to look at Will, who seemed to be rather serious about practising his archery. Nico could tell from a glance that Will’s stance was still slightly off, but it had notably improved from earlier in the day.

“You better keep that promise,” said Will, something stern and strange to his voice. He never once took his eye off of the target that was down the range.

“I have every intention to try,” said Nico, as he leaned back where he sat.

Nico didn’t feel like getting up to do any archery beside Will. He was more than satisfied just waiting for Will to get tired of shooting arrows. He craned his neck to take a look at the progress of Will’s accuracy. He saw a single target peppered with arrows—none of which were embedded in the middle.

“I hope so,” said Will, his bow arm and his voice faltering in a moment of vulnerability. “I—I need you here,” he said. “I don’t know why exactly I feel this way so strongly, but I do.” Will took a deep breath and loosed another arrow. “I don’t know what I would do if you ever leave again…”

“I-I’m sorry,” said Will, lowering the bow to his side. “I don’t mean to sound as though I’m trying to guilt you into staying…” Nico shook his head. No. He understood. “I just… I can’t help but feel this way.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Will,” said Nico in the most reassuring way that he could manage as he looked up at his boyfriend. “I’m here to stay.” When silence save for the rhythmic shooting of arrows answered him, Nico looked down between his feet and closed his eyes, opening his ears to the twanging of the bowstring and the breaths that Will struggled to keep even.

Nico almost drifted off. The sounds were soothing and almost hypnotic in their own way. _Twang. Twang. Twang_. The shots came in rapid succession, though Nico could tell, with his augmented hearing, that something was quite off about them.

 _Twang. Pause. Twang._ Even in his almost trance-like state, Nico began to feel as though something, somehow, had gone wrong. While his mind was instantly alert with worry, his body was somewhat slower to follow. A single loud snapping noise filled the air—followed by the sound of dozens of arrows clattering to the ground.

Nico looked up from where he’d been sitting, bound up to his feet, and ran to Will’s side in an instant.

Will was on the floor, sobbing inconsolably. Will’s face was buried in his hands, the flesh stripped from two of his fingers, the other fingers pierced by innumerable splinters from the bow that Will had somehow managed to snap right in half.

“What’s wrong?” said Nico. He only just barely caught himself before asking if Will was alright. He had always found the question inane and stupid. Of course Will wasn’t alright.

Nico gently rubbed his hand in tentative circles around Will’s shoulder, but only got shuddering gasps and broken sobs in response. “Hey,” he said, in a gentle attempt to coax something intelligible from Will. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Will,” he said.

“Nothing,” mumbled Will. The son of Apollo trembled as he unsteadily made his way to his feet. A brief golden glow surrounded him as all the splinters still attached to his hands fell out. “Absolutely nothing is wrong,” he said. Will only just managed to not burst out into tears, but the way that his voice cracked definitely spoke volumes about how things were most definitely wrong.

“Let’s go home,” said Will, more forcefully than he had wanted. He tossed down the quiver that had been slung across his back. The whole day, he’d been fighting down the bile of the realization that he had _hurt_ campers.

It didn’t seem like Will could manage to hold anything back anymore. At least not while he stayed in the training grounds, right there in front of the range. He needed to find some time to himself. It was the only way he could deal with the heightened emotions raging through him.

Will darted out of the door before Nico could react, and though Nico could have very well caught up without too much effort, he decided not to. He looked out through the door as it swung closed behind will and heaved a sigh. He hoped Will would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. :3. All the things that are going on... the tension that's still in the background. The reality of the situation that our characters face are beginning to bleed in through the incredibly intimate and closed narrative that we've had so far.
> 
> So. What do you think's going on? Why did Will have that mini-breakdown? What do you think will happen next with Nico and Will? :3. *cackles madly*
> 
> Leave a kudos if you like the story thus far, and leave a comment if you want to make my day! I've been having a bit of a difficult day today, so it would be much appreciated. <3.


	42. The Night is Dark and Full of Terrors

The debacle at the range was a rather somber end to a day that, as far as Nico was concerned, had been looking up. Nico still didn’t know what had happened there. He had a suspicion about what could have triggered Will’s breakdown, but he couldn’t be sure. Not without talking to Will.

Nico walked home—alone—with his head hung. The day had been so promising. He had hoped it would be much like the past two days, the trouble that reared its head every now and again just minimal and easy to deal with.

It seemed, however, that Nico had reached the end of his allowance of pain-free happiness. It seemed that now, it was too much to ask the Fates for some quiet time before the storm arrived. Except, Nico didn’t feel like he was entering a storm for the first time. It felt like he had been in the eye for the last handful of days and he was about to encounter the eyewall all over again.

Nico was startled from his sobering thoughts when his foot met something rather hard on the ground. As he inadvertently kicked whatever it was across the marble road, he heard clinking and rattling.

Nico looked up and saw a set of keys with a keychain that looked like a cute little cartoon sun. That had been a gift from Apollo. The keys, he was sure, were Will’s. Though he had been walking at a somewhat more leisurely pace earlier, the sight of the abandoned keychain was enough to put some urgency in his steps.

Nico was both surprised and relieved when, upon arriving at the gate to the front yard of their two-unit complex, he saw that Will was waiting there. Will was sitting on the short flight of stairs onto the slightly elevated porch.

“Hey,” said Nico, waving his hand shyly as he pushed open the gate.

Will looked up from where he was sat on the top of the stairs. He wiped the obvious streaks of tears from his eyes and cheeks with the heels of his palms. “I dropped my keys,” he lamented, his voice breaking partway through the sentence as he sniffled rather loudly.

“I know,” said Nico. He took a step into the front yard and jangled the keychain he held in his fingers. He tossed the keys at Will.

Will tried to catch the keys as they sailed through the air, but before the could even raise his hands, they had already hit his face. “I’m so sorry,” said Nico, with a small gasp. He took another step toward Will before he could catch himself.

Will frowned and rubbed the spot on his forehead where the keychain had hit him. It hadn’t done too much damage, but it had still hurt like a bitch. “It’s okay,” said Will, shaking his head from side to side. “I probably deserved that for running away from you.”

The expression on Nico’s face softened. “Hey,” he said, voice low in an attempt to be comforting. He walked forward and stopped only when he was standing at the foot of the stairs right in front of Will. “Don’t you say that,” he said. As much as he tried, he could not keep the pinch of annoyance that joined the concern in his voice. “You don’t deserve to be hurt in any way.”

Will shook his head and wiped away freshly-fallen tears. He honestly didn’t want to continue this discussion, but it seemed like he had to.

Truth was, a part of Will simply wouldn’t let him shut up. “I dropped my keys, you know,” he said. He reached down between his legs to pick up the keys from the fourth step of the staircase. He jangled them in Nico’s direction. “I didn’t want to stop so I just kept running and tried to forget I even dropped them.”

The way that Will’s voice cracked as he spoke was heart-wrenching to hear for Nico. As much as he wanted to help, he didn’t know quite how to. He might have just spent three years outside of camp, but very little time in all that had been spent trying to comfort people that were having a rough time.

“Hey,” said Nico, shaking his head. “It’s okay,” he said gently. “I have mine, anyway.” A small smile crossed Nico’s lips—an attempt at levity. “Even if I didn’t find yours, we could get inside. I could always have broken down the door if it didn’t work, anyway.”

A small, grudging smile played on Will’s lips at Nico’s awkward attempt to make the situation lighter. “You must think I’m such a hypocrite,” he said. The last few words of his statement were muffled by the way that he buried his face into the crook of his right arm as he drew his knees to his chest.

Will heaved a heavy sigh, only to be cut off by a sob that thus far, he had been valiantly fighting to choke down. “I was the one that kept telling you that running away from your problems wasn’t going to help.” Will took a deep shuddering breath and closed his eyes. “And yet,” he said, in as self-deprecating a tone as Nico thought was possible, “here I am, running away from _mine_.”

Nico rolled his eyes. He wished that Will could see the incredulity on his face. Truth be told, he didn’t particularly care that Will wasn’t following his own advice. He knew how easy it was to do. He was guiltier of that more than pretty much anyone. “It’s okay,” he said; “It’s difficult to follow your own advice. In my experience, at least.”

Will laughed, the sound bitter and strained. It sent a pang of pain through Nico’s chest. He truly wasn’t used to hearing Will like this. It almost went against everything he knew about the other young man. “Yeah, but my advice tends to be really good,” said Will with a scoff.

“Will,” said Nico with a frown. “It’s alright to make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. Gods know I’ve made enough in _my_ life.” Nico shook his head. “If you’re not going to listen to your own advice, at least try to listen to mine. Don’t get too hung up on your mistakes. They’ll only drag you down.”

“But I’m not everyone, Nico,” said Will. The pitiful sniffle that rose from Will’s throat sent a stab of sadness into Nico’s chest. “This is different. I’m different.” Will sighed. “When I make mistakes, people get hurt. Even worse, Nico! People could _die_ if I make the wrong, stupid decision.”

Will shivered where he sat. He did not look up even once from where he had buried his face in his arms. “I feel like I’ve only been making _more_ mistakes as time goes on. Not less.” Will sighed. “I should be getting better at controlling myself and my anger—not worse.”

“Getting older doesn’t necessarily mean that you get better at making decisions,” said Nico. He walked up the steps and sat down on the top step, on the side opposite Will. He leaned his shoulders against the railing.

“Trust me,” said Nico with a small smile that Will only _just_ managed to catch by looking up. “I know this better than anyone.” Nico shook his head sadly. “Getting older doesn’t mean that you get better at controlling _anything_ to do with your emotions. Not by a long shot.”

Nico laughed bitterly. “It might seem like I can control my emotions really well, but honestly,” he said; “I don’t have the slightest fucking clue what I’m doing half the time.”

“What do you know?” said Will. His voice was rather glum as he turned his head to look at some distant point on the marble road in front of their apartment unit. “You haven’t had to deal with people so injured that the slightest mistake would have meant _killing_ them.”

Nico felt a stirring of anger at the insinuation in the pit of his stomach. He stopped himself. He knew that Will was just being unreasonably harsh on himself. “No,” he said, conceding to the truthfulness of Will’s point. “But,” he said, “You might not know this. I have led gods and immortal demigods of other lands against the armies of Nyx.”

Nico shook his head from side to side. He glanced at Will, but Will was still looking, seemingly somewhat lost, at the road. “Sure, none of them ever really died permanently, but they still _died_ whenever I made the wrong call.”

Will sighed and got up from where he had been sitting. He braced his hands against the smooth stone of the steps. “Thanks for trying,” he said, with a glum but grateful smile in Nico’s direction. “But,” he said, “if you don’t mind. I just want to be alone right now.”

Will jiggled the keys that he held in his fingers as he turned around to unlock his door. Nico almost stayed silent, but some part of him knew that Will would at least appreciate the offer of dinner. Without getting up from where he was seated, Nico twisted his torso to face Will. “Hey,” he said; “Won’t you at least come over for dinner?”

For better or for worse, Nico and Will had settled into some sort of routine over the last few days. They met up first thing for breakfast, then they would spend some time for one of their sessions. Then, one of them would make lunch. Then, the sessions would continue afterwards.

They always wrapped up their days with dinner at Nico’s half of the apartment before they went their separate ways. Nico had to admit that he was more than a little bit disappointed when Will shook his head—no. “I’m not very hungry tonight,” said Will; “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Nico, as he rose from his seat on the top step. “I understand what _that’s_ like, too.” A small bitter smile curled the corners of Will’s lips. “Just…” Nico scratched the back of his head, not knowing if exactly what it was that he was doing. “If you need anything, you know where to find me, alright?”

“Yeah,” said Will, the keys in his hands jangling together as he fit the one for the front door into the lock. “I’ll find you if I need you, but I think what I need right now is some time alone to think.”

Nico reached out tentatively for Will’s back, but his fingers didn’t seem to want to go the extra distance to actually _touch_ Will.

As Will turned the key and entered his half of the apartment complex without a single backward glance, Nico had to admit that he was feeling more than a little bit lost.

Nico was worried. Had he, as the one person that Will seemed to be leaning on for support, failed Will? Had he, as not only Will’s boyfriend, but also a good friend, not done as much as he could have to prevent probably self-destructive behaviour?

A shiver ran down Nico’s spine as he jiggled his own key into his misbehaving lock. Those questions would haunt him for a long time.

Nico entered his own living room feeling much worse for wear now than he had been after those hours of sparring with Reyna. He found himself just leaning against the door for the longest time, listening for the slightest sound of trouble coming from Will’s side of the apartment.

Minutes ticked by in tense silence until Nico decided that Will probably was alright. He sighed as he made his way to the kitchen. He had hoped that Will would be there for dinner. Suffice to say, though, the table would be quite lonely that night.

Nico threw a couple of slices of bread into a toaster. From the fridge, he took out the ramekin of herb-butter he’d prepared two days ago. He’d been hoping to use the herb butter on something fancier than just a few slices of toast, but truth be told, he wasn’t feeling very motivated to cook a fresh meal for himself at the moment.

Part of what would have made it nice to have Will over for at least another hour more was that he would have inspired Nico to cook. Whatever the case was, it didn’t take very long before Nico took out a butter knife and smeared his herb-butter on his toast. It wasn’t a very filling dinner, but it would have to do.

\----------

Nico’s eyes flew open in the middle of the night. There was a cold knot of dread in the pit of his stomach. All the same, he was more than a little uncomfortable with the fact that he had not been all too surprised to wake up to the feeling of Will’s life-force slowly ebbing away.

Truthfully, Nico felt rather numb. He didn’t remember when it was that he simply stopped being surprised that the life of a demigod drove people to such severe things as this. It was so disturbing that he had become so used to the suffering of demigods that something like this felt like a fact of life now.

As sluggish as the panic in the corners of his mind was at setting in, the rest of Nico’s body was alert. He rose from his sleep and quickly jumped to his feet. As soon as he was up, he realized that, perhaps more painful than the fact that he had expected all of this, was that he had gone to sleep prepared. He was fully dressed, and all he had to do now was to leave his room and make his way to Will.

Nico felt cheated of a normal life, almost. He knew, though, that there was no sense being angry at the circumstances that had led to where he was now. His anger could not change anything that had happened to him in the last few years.

Nico took a deep breath as he left his room. He had not wanted to do this, _ever_ , but he supposed that confronting Will’s self-destructive tendencies was better done now than during the war. Or maybe even after—if there was an after left for them all.

Truth be told, Nico was more than a little bit nervous. He didn’t know what he would do when he finally _witnessed_ what it was that Will was doing to himself. He didn’t know if he could handle the comforting contact that he was sure Will would need.

Whatever the case was, Nico knew that he had no time to lose. Will was slipping away dangerously fast. He ran into the living room and nearly kicked down the door that connected his half of the complex to Will’s. The only thing that stopped him was the memory of an agreement between the two of them to never lock this particular door—just in case.

With trembling hands, Nico turned the doorknob. Eerie darkness was what met him in the living room of Will’s half of the property. That was strange. Whenever he’d woken up in the middle of the night, he had always seen a light on in Will’s living room while he was on his way to the kitchen to grab a drink of water.

Now, evidently, that same light was nowhere to be seen.

Nico closed his eyes and forced his breathing to even out. Each inhalation and exhalation matching up with the beating of his heart as it slowed. In the darkness of his self-imposed blindness, his hearing became acute.

Through the stone walls, Nico heard sniffling pierce the tense silence. A few moments later, he had ascertained where, exactly, the sniffling was coming from.

With slow, quiet steps, he made his way to Will’s room and pushed the door open. He could not audibly hear Will’s sobbing, and perhaps even worse, he could smell the coppery tang of spilt blood in the air.

Instinctively, Nico reached across the door frame and flicked the light switch on. He squinted in the blinding light that suddenly filled the room, but there was no mistaking the sight that greeted him in the brightness.

“N-Nico!” said Will, voice strangled and eyes wide from the sudden, unexpected light. He was sprawled on the floor, sobbing openly while ragged gashes on either arm bled profusely onto the carpet. In one hand he held a shard of glass that Nico was sure came from the mirror in the washroom’s vanity.

“Nico!” said Will, again. Nico’s heart constricted at the sound of his name so strangled on Will’s throat. Will scrambled to hide the evidence of his self-harm. He threw the shard of mirror underneath his bed. A glow wrapped around his body and closed the flesh that he had so painfully opened, stopping the blood that flowed freely down his arms.

“G-go away!” said Will, as Nico sagged against the door frame with relief at the sight of Will healing himself. The terrifying feeling of Will slipping away from life had stopped. “Y-you’re not supposed to see me like this,” said Will, half-heartedly rubbing the carpet beside him in a pitiful attempt to erase the blood that so clearly stained it.

“Go away,” said Will, blue eyes dulled by tears locking with Nico’s concerned dark ones. Will’s eyes were watery. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, falling only to make the carpet even wetter. “Please,” Will begged with such a tone that Nico felt a painful throb in his chest.

“No,” said Nico. He shook his head from side to side. “I’m not about to help you run away from your problems too. Gods know I did enough running away from my own.” Nico sat on the floor on the threshold to the room. “I’m here to talk,” he said.

“Just…” Will honestly couldn’t find the words to talk to Nico about all this. He couldn’t even find the _voice_ to. He coughed, trying to get the block in his throat out. “Please, Nico,” he said, “Not tonight.”

Will’s fingers instinctively tried to reach under the bed for the jagged mirror shard. Nico saw the movement. “I promise I’ll stop,” said Will.

“No,” said Nico in as flat and unimpressed a voice as he could muster. He was going to put his foot down. Maybe Will was willing to give _him_ space for his own problems. He did appreciate that, but Will’s situation was different. Will was _hurting_ himself.

“I’m not going to leave,” said Nico. He tore his eyes away from Will’s pleading gaze. “I’m not going to leave at least until you tell me what the fuck is going on. I want to help you, Will.”

Nico looked down at his legs that were crossed underneath him. “I’m letting you help me, Will,” he said, daring to inject some vulnerability in his words. “Why can’t you let me help you?” Nico took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid of losing you, Will.”

“You’re right,” said Will, with a long, shuddering sigh. “Of course you’re right.” Will sat up and propped his back against his bed. “That fucking mirror’s going to cost a fortune to fix,” he said, trying to force a smile. When Nico didn’t answer his lame attempt at changing the topic, he said, “How can I expect you to open up to me if I don’t open up to you?”

Will supposed he must have said the words in a much drier tone than he had intended. Nico looked up, eyes wide with fear. “Will,” said Nico, softly. Nico’s resolve faltered, and before he could catch himself, he said, “I didn’t really mean it like that. I don’t want to guilt you into doing anything. If you really want me to leave, I’ll go.”

For perhaps the dozenth time since Nico had barged into the room, dark eyes met blue eyes, but no words were spoken. Will’s body was tense, but Nico could tell that his eyes were imploring him to stay. Nico knew that look. It was one that pleaded for help.

Will might not have had the courage to speak the words, to say that he needed Nico at that moment, but Nico didn’t need them. “I’m staying, then,” Nico said, as Will tried not to breathe a sigh of relief.

“You know you can tell me anything, Will,” said Nico. He briefly considered moving over to sit beside Will, but thought better of it at the surge of nausea that descended upon him. Nico scooted into the room and propped his back on the wall beside the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong, I guess,” said Will, his voice soft and trembling. He shook his head frantically from side to side. “I’m supposed to be the camp’s healer for fuck’s sake!

Nico fought down the urge to say “oh,” in realization. He had suspected it, and he had even wondered when the events at the camp training grounds would catch up to Will. He supposed it only made sense that being at the range earlier that day was enough to trigger this inevitable breakdown.

“I’m supposed to be healing people! Saving them from death!” Will’s voice broke as he thumped his fist on the floor. “I’m _not_ supposed to be putting them in the fucking infirmary.” Will shivered where he sat. He drew his knees to his chest and buried his face between them.

Will’s words came out muffled after that. “And yet,” he said, in a soft voice that reeked of disbelief; “There I was, shooting arrows at _people_.”

“You were angry,” said Nico, trying to sound as comforting as he could. “You weren’t thinking clearly. It happens to us all. Emotions can go out of control.”

Nico scoffed at himself. “At least you didn’t literally vanish off of the face of the earth for three years. At least you didn’t let everyone think you were dead that whole time.” Nico looked down with a sigh.

“But you came back, didn’t you?” said Will. “You came back and you made up for that mistake.” Will wrung his hands without looking up. “But _I_ shouldn’t lose control of my emotions. I’m a healer. I have _responsibilities_. The loves of campers ride on my shoulders and what do I do? _I_ endanger them.”

Will shook his head and sobbed openly. “You came back. If I _killed_ someone, how the fuck am I supposed to make up for _that_ mistake?”

“At the range,” said Will, with a whimper. “At the range I was thinking of the little girl that I shot in the leg.” Will shivered again, but this time he raised his head from between his knees to stare with disgust at his hands. “If that arrow had flown just a little bit lower down and to the side, I would have hit her posterior tibial artery.”

“I don’t know what the hell that is,” said Nico, shaking his head from side to side. He had only been to normal school for a few months, and he had never even looked back. “But by the look on your face I can tell that that isn’t a very good place to hit.”

Will took another deep shuddering breath. “Yeah,” he said, with a trembling voice. “You could put it that way.” Will buried his face between his knees again. “You could also say that Achilles probably died because the arrow hit his posterior tibial artery, not because he got hit in his heel.”

“Oh,” said Nico, now truly at a loss for words. He didn’t know what else to say to comfort Will. Silence descended upon the two of them as they began to realize truly how grave their individual and joint situations were. It wasn’t until Will started to laugh that the tension between them melted away.

“Look at how fucked up we are,” said Will, bitterness the only emotion that Nico could pick up from his voice. “Sometimes, I find myself wishing that I had never been born a demigod. Just so I could have a ‘normal’ life. So I wouldn’t have all this responsibility on my shoulders.”

“But you know what?” said Will, shaking as he wiped away the tear-tracks that stained his cheeks. “I then end up thinking that even if I was born a mortal, if I wanted to _still_ be _myself_ , I would probably end up working in a hospital anyway. I would probably still be in charge of people’s _lives_.”

“So—” said Will, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. It left a streak of red across his face. “I guess… this is just my lot in life and I have to deal with it.”

Will looked up at Nico, face marred with his own blood. Had Nico been anyone else, he probably would have found the sight of a bloody man smiling at him terrifying. He didn’t. “You know what makes it bearable?” he said, “having you back.”

For the first time in a long while, instead of an intense feeling of self-loathing, nothing but warmth bubbled up in Nico’s stomach. He blushed at Will’s words. “We’re all fucked up in our own ways,” he said, “and I guess you can blame the Fates for that.”

“I…” Will’s voice faltered as he looked at Nico with fear-filled eyes. “I don’t think I can stop doing this,” he said, “I…”

“You don’t have to make any promises,” said Nico. “What matters is that you don’t throw away your life, alright?”

Nico gestured at the blood-soaked carpet that was underneath Will. “I’m not asking you to stop doing that,” he said. Will looked down at the blood and blinked away fresh tears that welled in his eyes. “I know that it can help in a twisted sort of way.”

“But,” said Nico, looking at Will with a gaze that assured Will he wouldn’t take no for an answer, “what I want you to do is promise that you’re going to try to stop.”

Nico took a deep breath. “I know I’m probably not the best guy to talk to about these things, but I’m here now,” he said. “And, as far as I know, I’m here to stay, barring some godly bullshit—” Nico and Will shared a brief, nervous laugh. “I want you to let me help you like I’m letting you help me.”

Will sat up straighter, hearing those things from Nico. He hadn’t known what to expect, truth be told. He was afraid Nico would judge him, would stop wanting to be around him. He was glad that Nico was willing to offer a shoulder for him to cry on and wasn’t forcing him to stop.

Will _wanted_ to stop. Gods knew that. Some days, though, it was simply too difficult to resist. The pain of maiming his own body, in its own twisted way, offered him some relief from the demons that haunted his every waking moment.

Will got up from where he had been sitting, and, momentarily forgetting everything that they had gone through the last couple of days, he stumbled across the room. He wrapped his arms around Nico and sagged to the floor, the tears coming before he could do anything to stop them.

“Thank you,” Will whispered as he pressed a desperate kiss to Nico’s arm cheek. “Thank you,” he said.

Much to the surprise of the both of them, Nico found himself leaning into the touch. Will was so warm and seemed so vulnerable. There was a stirring of repulsion in the very pit of Nico’s stomach, but otherwise, he felt okay with this.

Nico reached up with a single hand to stroke the side of Will’s face. He rubbed away a smear of blood with his thumb. He didn’t know why he wasn’t scrambling away from Will. Maybe it was the fact that he had just seen Will so vulnerable and powerless that his subconscious had accepted that Will currently wasn’t a threat.

Nico wished that his peace could last, but the disgust in his stomach was growing with each passing moment. All it took was a firm hand on Will’s shoulder for Will to pull away with a sheepish look on his face. As Nico struggled to even out his breathing and the beating of his heart, Will looked at him and said, “I’m sorry.”

Nico waved his hand and shook his head. “It’s alright,” he said. “Just… a little warning next time would be appreciated.” Nico slipped his hand into his collar, allowing his fingers to touch the skin of his flesh. He could feel the beating of his heart against his fingers.

It took a little while for Nico to calm down again, but when he did, he felt much better than he had earlier that night.

“S—” Before Will could complete whatever it was that he had been about to say, both of them jumped. They were startled by the sound of a whip cracking through the silence of the night. The crack was followed by chilling laughter and the unmistakably aggressive nickering of horses.

Nico closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had hoped that they would have a few more days of peace. It was already starting to feel as though the happy memories he’d made with Will over the last few days had happened many, many years ago.

Will clung to Nico with worry, and this time Nico didn’t even push him away. “I think the war has come to us,” said Nico. He looked into Will’s blue eyes, the sapphire orbs filled with fear, uncertainty and anxiety. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, looking down at the way that Will’s hands were trembling. He offered his own to Will, and took Will’s hands in a vice-like grip.

“I’m afraid, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is two weeks late, but I've been working on other things, and as before, my motivation is on a down low for solangelo. I might just be a little burned out, but I'm getting back into the swing of things. :3.
> 
> Well, that, and I was working really hard on making these chapters the best they could be since we're wrapping up this leg of the series already. Tell me what you think! Leave me a kudos if you liked this chapter, and leave me a comment if you want to give my motivation a much-needed boost!
> 
> Mostly, the lack of feedback recently has been a self-fulfilling prophecy. Whenever I see a post get few comments, I get a little bit less motivated to write. So, yeah, that's the current situation. Hopefully this funk ends soon. :).


	43. Gone

Piper sincerely wished that she could say it was the whole whip-cracking, evil-laughing, aggressive-horse-neighing fiasco that had woken her up. However, that was not the truth. It was one Drew Tanaka’s high-pitched screaming that had roused every single person in the Aphrodite cabin to wakefulness.

From where she was sat up in the middle of tangled sheets, Piper glowered at Drew. Unfortunately, it seemed that Drew was much too occupied with gracelessly trying to pretend as though nothing had happened to notice her glare.

As much as she wanted to go back to sleep, Piper remained sitting, waiting. Her ears were open and listening for _anything_ that could indicate something was wrong. It soon became apparent that the night had fallen silent. Perhaps it was _too_ silent, but it was already late and she wanted to go back to sleep.

Piper was just about to settle back into bed when all of a sudden, a fantic banging on the cabin door jolted everyone in the cabin awake. Drew started screaming again until one of the others silenced her with a pillow—a rather fast-moving pillow at that—to the face.

“Gods damn it,” said Piper, growling as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “What’s going on now?” she said, walking to the door. Piper placed her hand on the doorknob, eyes furrowing with worry at the realization that the brass of the handle was much colder than it was naturally.

Piper pulled the door open, more than a little bit surprised to discover Percy on the other side. Perhaps more surprising was the fact that Percy had a hand on the doorknob and that he was standing out on the green, half-naked and looking both bedraggled and panicked.

“Piper!” said Percy with a hint of disbelief on his voice. He snatched his hand back from the doorknob and bent over, panting as he tried to catch his breath. “Have you seen Jason?” he said, gasping now for air.

Percy leaned forward and clutched the door frame to the side of Piper’s head. The motion was quick, and, despite Percy’s sorry state, graceful. Piper nearly jumped out of the way in defense.

Piper _did_ jump out of the way when Percy started heaving. His retching was dry but for the spittle that flew from his lips.

“N-no,” said Piper, struggling to find the words to say to Percy. She couldn’t help the dread that had locked her up. It wasn’t often that Perseus Jackson was in such a frenzy. “Do you want to come in?” she said, after a few moments. Panic reared its ugly head in her chest.

“What’s wrong?” said Piper, as Percy’s grip on the doorway tightened. Piper heard a creaking sound and one look confirmed her suspicion. Percy’s fingers playing quite the number on the wood. There were definitely indentations where Percy’s fingers were.

“Bad things are happening, Piper,” said Percy. Piper looked over her shoulder at the frightened faces of her half-siblings. They were huddling against each other, the looks they shot her terrified and uncertain.

Piper didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. She was more than willing to leave it to Chiron to explain to the younger ones what was going on. “Can we talk outside?” said Percy, catching Piper’s attention again. One look at the son of Poseidon was enough to tell that he was as uncomfortable with having this conversation in front of everyone else as she was.

Piper nodded. She had never quite spent the time to think about how many of the younger campers had no idea that there was a war on the horizon. She knew that the older ones were ready. Everyone had been on the ready for days. She also knew that no one was going into this willingly, and maybe that was the reason no one told the young ones anything. Maybe they were hoping to keep the younger campers as innocent as possible for as long as possible.

“If this is about Jason, Percy,” said Piper as she closed the door behind her. Her voice trailed off as the worry in her chest grew. “Look,” she said, clinging to the desperate hope that this was just about Jason sneaking off. “I know he’s been going off in secret the past few days in the middle of the night. Don’t ask how I know, but I do. He’s always come back in the morning with a stupid smile on his face, though.”

“If you’re worried about him…” said Piper, with a small pained smile on her face. She sounded so stupidly optimistic. “I’m sure he’s just found someone that he could love that loved him back.” It wasn’t helping that Piper was still dealing with the fact that Jason had maybe found someone that made him happy while she hadn’t yet. She certainly couldn’t begrudge him his happiness, though.

The gods knew how painful the last three years had been for everyone involved in Nico’s disappearance.

“No,” said Percy. He shook his head from side to side so vehemently that Piper thought it was going to fly off. The breathy and strained tone of Percy’s voice stabbed cold fear into Piper’s heart. The rising note of panic in Percy’s voice most assuredly did nothing to alleviate her own. “They’re missing,” said Percy. “They’re missing.”

“Annabeth was just lying there beside me in the Poseidon cabin—” Percy stopped with a jolt. A blush crept up his cheeks, and for a moment in the grim darkness of the night, Piper felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Anyway! We were just sleeping, and then when I woke up she was just gone!”

Percy’s hands were trembling, as though terrified at the prospect of being in a living nightmare. “I woke up from the nightmare—” Piper’s heart clenched in her chest. Percy didn’t even need to explain what the nightmare was about. She could very well speculate.

“She’s always there when I have the nightmare,” said Percy, his voice cracking. Piper looked down and noticed that the grass around her feet had turned brittle and dry. There were droplets of water gathering on Percy’s feet. “And then she was gone! I don’t know where she went or how she vanished. The only clue is that there’s a hole in the wall of my cabin in the shape of a person!”

“How is that possible, Piper?” said Percy, disbelief in his voice. Piper could tell from the way Percy stood that Percy was moments away from grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking the living daylights out of her.

“It looked like the wood had been burned through,” said Percy, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Oh gods!” said Percy, eyes wild as they darted about frantically.

Percy clutched his stomach and put a hand over his mouth. Piper took a step forward and then stepped back. She didn’t want to walk right into projectile vomit. She could tell that Percy wasn’t used to this kind of panic. Then again, she couldn’t blame him. He had just lost a vital part of his support system.

“ _Percy,_ ” said Piper, pumping as much of her power into her voice. The charmspeak seemed to wash over Percy, his eyes glazing over as he swayed slowly from side to side. “ _I want you to calm down and tell me what’s going on._ ”

When the charmspeak lifted, brightness returned to Percy’s eyes and he gasped. “Thank you, Piper,” he said, shaking his head. Piper could see he was still struggling, but at least his words didn’t come out like the ravings of a madman.

“I went to the Jupiter cabin, too,” said Percy, “but the door was locked. I tried to knock, but I kept hearing Jason’s voice telling me to fuck off. It was too late at night, he said, no matter how hard I begged him to come and help me find Annabeth.” Percy’s voice cracked. “So I kicked in the door and I found his cellphone on the bed, just playing clips of him telling people to go away over and over.”

“Gods, Piper!” said Percy. Piper watched Percy’s fingers go through his hair, combing the dark locks back. She could see him fighting down bile that was climbing up his throat. She could only imagine how terrifying it must have felt to hope that Jason would be there to help only to find him missing, too. “I don’t like this…” said Percy. “Not one bit.”

Piper cracked a small smile at Percy’s attempt to minimize the gravity of the situation, but it was insincere at best.

Before Piper could say anything else, the sound of galloping hooves caught her attention. Percy’s head swivelled to face the sound so fast that Piper thought it would pop right off his shoulders. Chiron, in full centaur form, still wearing pink curlers in his tail, raced across the green for the Athena cabin.

Percy and Piper shared a nervous look and watched what was going on from a distance.

With a flash of light and a deafening clap of thunder that nearly flattened the two demigods, Athena materialized in front of the cabin. She was glowing with such radiance that Piper was sure Athena was only _just_ holding back her true divine nature.

For a moment, Piper had to wonder how safe it was for Athena to be concentrating so much of her godly essence in this one place.

Without fooling with her divinity, Athena gripped either side of the front of the cabin dedicated to her. Piper winced as wood and nails screeched and screamed. Athena’s fingers dug into the structure, and, with titanic strength, she ripped out the entire front area of the Athena cabin. She tossed the debris aside, only narrowly missing of the the newer cabins—seemingly the one for Triptolemus.

“They’re gone!” Athena wailed. Piper found the grief in Athena’s voice so very unsettling. She had never heard a goddess in such pain before.

“They’re gone,” said Athena. This time, venom and a thirst for vengeance dripped from her voice. Piper shivered where she stood. In Aeschylus’ Oresteia, Athena had, with her silver tongue, managed to convince the Erinyes to become the Semnai—the protectors of Athens.

The Athena that was hunched over the destroyed entrance of the Athena cabin, however, seemed to be the kind of goddess that could talk the Erinyes into pursuing Orestes for no reason other than her wrath.

Chiron walked up to the goddess and offered a consoling hand which he put on her shoulder. He unslung the horn from around his shoulders and blew into it. Piper winced as three sonorous notes rang out across the green, and, surely, across the Sound and into Theopolis.

Moments later, the yet-unfinished towers that the Nameless One had commissioned blazed to life with a golden radiance. Bright yellow crystals set into intricate Imperial Gold wire cages atop the towers bathed the entire camp with gentle sunlight.

The sunlight bolstered the power of the barrier that surrounded the camp, protecting it from the minions of night. Piper couldn’t help but feel that the towers being activated had come much too late. Thankfully, though, none of the other cabins seemed to have been touched.

Piper and Percy looked at each other. Without words shared, the two of them bolted in the direction of Chiron and Athena. In an instant, the goddess turned to face the two of them. As soon as they had taken a single step, they both crashed into her despite their best attempts to stop.

Piper found herself flung five feet backward while Percy was caught in midair by the harshly glowing hand of the goddess. “Annabeth,” hissed Athena, even as Percy trembled with fear and uncertainty at the sight of the tears that streamed down the goddess’ cheeks.

“Where is my daughter?” demanded the goddess of War, her mighty voice thundering as it rang across the entirety of the camp. Percy’s sea-green eyes filled with tears. He shook his head. Athena grabbed his shoulders and shook him as he hung limply in the air before her. “Where is my daughter?!” repeated the goddess.

“I-I…” Piper’s heart lurched forward in her chest as Percy’s voice cracked. It was so difficult seeing him like this. “I don’t know!” said Percy. Piper could see him shiver at the thought of not knowing where Annabeth was.

“One minute, we were sleeping…” said Percy. “And then… I don’t know what happened! She just _vanished_. There was one hole in the shape of a person in the side of my cabin and it looked like it was burned through! That’s all I know!” Percy hung his head. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, sounding defeated. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth dropped Percy. Thankfully, Piper was quick enough to dart forward and catch him. Percy rolled over onto the ground and wheezed with pain as he gripped his side. Piper could only hope that Athena hadn’t busted a rib on Percy while she was holding him.

Athena vanished and rematerialized at the Athena cabin. She walked around the entire place once to look for anything similar to what Percy had just described. Piper and Percy, on the other hand, took their time to walk over. They stopped to stand beside Chiron just as Athena straightened from her investigation.

“Fire didn’t do this,” said Athena, voice as cold as the night air that gripped them all. Athena traced a finger along one of the man-shaped holes in the walls and it came away with what looked like ash. “This is dust. Not ash. Whatever walked through here aged the walls so much that they just crumbled away into nothing.”

From Athena’s shadow, two demigods stumbled out. Nico straightened, looked up at the looming form of Athena, and chuckled softly to himself. Piper wondered if the son of Hades was remembering transporting the Athena Parthenos halfway around the world.

Will, on the other hand, instantly fell to the ground. He braced himself on the grass as he retched to the side. Nico reached down and squeezed Will’s shoulder before walking toward Percy.

Nico’s look was hard, flat, and unflinching. He first looked at Piper, then at Percy. He didn’t back down when Percy walked forward to beg him to help. Nor did he step forward to give Percy the assistance that he wanted.

Nico turned his gaze to Chiron and said, with gravity in his voice “It has begun, then.” Athena balled her fist and turned to face Nico, the divine radiance flowing from her body reaching the same intensity as the morning sun.

Nico jumped to Will’s side, the light seemingly flowing around him to form a protective bubble. Athena growled, the sound primal and angrier than anything that Piper and Percy had ever heard before. “It certainly has,” she said.

\----------

Athena disappeared almost immediately afterwards. She didn’t have to say anything. All those gathered knew that she was leaving to convene with the rest of the gods.

It was clear, beyond a doubt, that the camp had been woken rather rudely. Everyone was on high alert in case a second attack arrived whilst preparations for the defense of the camp were being finalized.

No one had expected the attack to come this early. Nor had anyone expected the attack to come so brazenly. It was almost never that the monsters attacked the camp directly, and it was certainly a worrisome thought that they had managed to kidnap the best strategists of the camp.

“We have to do something,” said Percy after a long minute of silence. He looked at Chiron, but the centaur’s face was impassive. He turned to Nico, but even Nico looked unsympathetic. There was a profound sadness to Nico’s face, but it was so normal to see on him, that Percy didn’t find it particularly concerning.

Nevertheless, it still hurt a little bit that Nico didn’t seem like he was caught for any fervent need for immediate action.

“Why are all of you just standing around here?” said Percy. His voice was hoarse and strained even if he hadn’t done much shouting. He couldn’t believe that the people he considered his closest friends weren’t already mounting a search party for all the demigods that had vanished.

“Annabeth is in danger!” said Percy, his voice cracking with worry. “The whole Athena cabin is in danger and all we’re doing is standing around here in the middle of a glorified sun lamp!”

“You have to do _something_ about this, Chiron!” said Percy, turning to the old centaur. “Give me a few campers and we’ll go after her!”

When Chiron didn’t respond, Percy slammed his fists on Chiron’s chest. The rumbling growl that came afterwards was so very, very uncharacteristic for the old centaur that Percy was taken aback. “Whose side are you all fucking o—!”

Whatever else Percy would have said was interrupted by a loud smack. Chiron slapped him backhandedly, sending him sprawling into the grass about five feet away. Percy looked up at Chiron with a mixture of awe, shock, and disgust. He was very surprised to find that the centaur was looking at him seemingly every bit as disappointed in him as he was in Chiron.

“I would have thought you would know better, Perseus Jackson,” said Chiron, his voice clipped and formal. “I roused my kin against my own father. I fought valiantly for the war against Gaea. Here we stand, two wars and innumerable quests since you arrived in this camp, and yet you still have not learned respect for the forces that we fight against.”

Piper walked over to Percy and tended to him. Will couldn’t help but follow Piper to help heal Percy. As Will laid his hands upon Percy’s head, the son of Poseidon glowed briefly. He glanced at Nico at that moment, expecting something. _Anything_. As far as he could tell, Nico was simply pensive.

Percy felt a jolt course through his body as Piper gasped. He looked first at Piper, then followed her gaze. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine when he realized that Will was covered in blood. “What happ—” began Piper, but Will shook his head.

It was clear Will didn’t want to talk about it.

“Look around you, Perseus,” said Chiron, voice as hard as the look in his eyes. It was almost as though Chiron wanted to drill a lesson into Percy’s head with just his eyes. “It is night and the dawn is just over the horizon. The moon does not ride across the sky. This is the time when the night is darkest.”

Chiron shook his head and slung the horn back around his shoulders. “This is the time when Nyx is at her most powerful, and you advise me to such a stupid and foolhardy course of action ass ending not just _you_ but _others_ on what is surely a suicide mission against one of the most powerful of the _protogenoi_.”

“No,” said Chiron, grief evident in his features even though his voice was stern. “Understand, Percy, that this is nothing like we have ever faced before. Gaea and her giants failed to scare Zeus, but even he quailed in terror the moment that Hypnos went to his mother.”

“My inaction is not because I side with the enemy,” said Chiron, disappointment and hurt creeping into his voice. “My inaction is because there is nothing we can do at this time without anyone getting seriously hurt. When the day comes, then you will have my blessings, but only if you have any idea where even to begin.”

Nico looked up at Chiron and said, “I need some time alone with Will. If you don’t mind we’ll convene with the Nameless One and see if he has any help to offer us in this.”

Nico tried his best to act as confident in this as he knew everyone expected him to be, but truth be told, his stomach was knotted with worry. Will looked up at Nico from where he had been helping Percy, concern clearly written in the way that his brows were furrowed.

Will got up to his feet and wiped away the last of the spittle from the corners of his mouth. He walked over to Nico and, with a small nod from Nico, gently stroked Nico’s arm.

Nico looked at Will with gratitude. He felt he owed Will the chance to show some affection, even though the contact turned his stomach. Some part of him rather appreciated the comfort of Will’s warmth, though.

“Let’s head to my dad’s cabin,” said Nico, looking rather apologetic about the whole shadow-travelling business to Will. “I don’t think you can handle another round of shadow-travelling, and I’m sure the Nameless One, if he wants to, can come whether I call him here, there, back home, or even at the surface of the sun.”

Will laughed nervously. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to another encounter with this Nameless One entity. “No,” he said, scratching the back of his head. He looked rather sheepish at the mention of shadow-travel. “I don’t think I can handle another round.” Will pointed at the spot in the grass where he’d thrown up. “I don’t think there’s anything left in me to throw up, though.”

Nico shook his head. He looked down at Percy, his expression softening. “We’ll talk in the morning, Percy. We’ll get her back. I promise.”

A sharp pain manifested itself in Nico’s chest. The words felt too familiar. Too empty. Too vacuous. He pushed the pain away and turned to Will. He walked backward in the direction of the Hades cabin and forced a smile. “Trust me, Will,” he said, “there’s always something left to throw up.”

As Will caught up, Nico placed a hand on his shoulder. “I should know,” said Nico. “Throwing up’s pretty much been my hobby these past few days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles evilly*
> 
> I ain't gonna lie, this was one of the most fun chapters to write. I'm not going to treat you all to the usual bullshit after all that, so leave a kudos if you still feel like it, and drop a comment to tell me what you think of this massive bombshell. >:]. I'll be waiting!
> 
> *cackles even more evilly*


	44. Debts Paid

It was no surprise to Nico and Will that the Nameless One was already in the Hades cabin by the time they arrived. From the looks of it, the god had been waiting quite a while already. The Nameless One was sat in the middle of the cabin, cross-legged upon the wooden planks that made up the floor.

Nico and Will stopped at the doorway and watched for a moment. The Nameless One seemed to be busily picking at the planks, every so often flinging a black speck of _something_ from his fingers. With each flick, the cloud seemed to grow with pieces of black dust.

“Now,” said the Nameless One, with a thin smile that he directed at Nico without so much as looking up from what he was doing. “I know that you already know _exactly_ where Annabeth Chase has been taken.”

Nico felt Will stiffen beside him. He looked over, and saw worry on Will’s face, instead of the disgust that he had expected. “But, I also know that there is one thing that you do not know. One thing that you and I know you _cannot_ know without my help.”

Nico leaned against the doorframe and frowned as the door swung shut behind them. He knew precisely what the Nameless One was getting at, but he didn’t like it one bit.

“What do you want?” said Nico, pulling Will closer to his side. This was the one time that he could tolerate Will’s proximity. Will’s presence was comforting against the intimidating aura that his mentor exuded.

There was also the fact that Nico felt much better knowing that he held Will’s arm in his hands. He knew for sure that the Nameless One could take Will away without him even knowing, but some part of him just felt safer having Will by his side and not dying because of the Nameless One.

“Why, Nico,” said the Nameless One. He rose to his feet and raised his arms to either side of him. The cloud of black dust followed him up, and from the nooks and crannies of the wooden floor, the last remnants of the black dust rose up, as well. “A sacrifice and a choice. That is always how it has been.”

Nico scowled at the Nameless One. Of course he knew how things worked. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t _want_ that to be the way things worked.

Nico turned to Will and grabbed Will’s other arm. He gently shook Will and looked into those brilliant sapphire eyes that were wide with fear. He bit his lip, voice quivering. “Don’t be mad at me,” he said, voice pleading. He didn’t like showing such vulnerability in front of anyone, much less the Nameless One.

“Please don’t be mad. There isn’t any other choice. I have to protect you.” Nico shook his head as tears—unwanted tears—began to well in his eyes. “I’ll understand if you hate me for this, but some part of me hopes that since you didn’t hate me for Octavian, you won’t hate me for this.”

Will found his throat constrict around the words he wanted to say. Eventually, he managed, “Why would I be mad at you?” he tried to crack a smile, but it slipped and fell almost instantly. “Is there something that I don’t know going on?”

“Yes,” said Nico. “You don’t know how much this pains me.”

Nico turned to the Nameless One, but before he could even speak, he felt the words torn out of his throat. “I have made my choice,” his disembodied voice said.

Nico turned to Will, and as much as he tried to speak, he couldn’t. His voice had been stolen from him. Nico’s disembodied voice began to speak from the space in between them, addressing Nico as much as it did Will. “One for the sake of many.”

Will felt a cold fear sink into the pit of his stomach. He had suspected, expected, that the war would come down to a choice like this. He knew deep inside that the safety of the many far outweighed the safety of the one, but the thought still turned his stomach.

“No,” said Will. He reached out with a hand and grasped Nico’s arm as he began to glow with soft sunlight. “I won’t hate you for this. I can’t hate you for anything, Nico,” said Will. A small, pained smile appeared on his face, and Nico couldn’t blame him. There were so many things about him that could be hated, but Nico was more than grateful that Will did not hate any of those things. “But don’t give up, Nico. I’m sure there’s another way.”

Nico shook his head and opened his mouth, speaking even though no words came out. His disembodied voice began to speak. “No,” said the voice, “there is no other way, only this.” Nico gasped and sputtered as his voice was returned to him. The hands that had been holding Will’s arms flew up to his throat as he scrambled for the breath that he had forgotten to take.

It took a moment for Nico to recover from the shock. “I have made my choice,” said Nico. He looked at Will, begging for forgiveness with no words. “The life of one for the life of many. This sacrifice I make. So has it been spoken, so has it been vowed.”

Each letter of the words that Nico spoke was burned into the air before him. Glowing glyphs of Ancient Greek hung between him and Will and the Nameless One. The Nameless One took a single breath and the glyphs began to change.

First the letters turned to Latin, then Cyrillic, then Sanskrit. From one language to the next, the letters moved. Each transition became faster than the last until the words became blurred and the Nameless One swallowed them whole.

“So you have,” said the Nameless One, wiping spittle from the corner of his lips. He swept his hand in front of him, and the dust that hung about moved with it. The dust coalesced, but instead of being a solid wedge as Nico and Will had expected, the dust turned into a sphere of what seemed to be _blood_.

The coppery tang of fresh blood swept over Nico and Will in waves, bringing tears to their eyes, and a round of coughing to bear. A smile grazed the corners of the Nameless One’s lips as he waited for the fit to subside.

When Nico and Will had regained their composure, he held out a single silver bauble. The blood that had been in the sphere began to ripple and shake. Tendrils of crimson detached from the surface of the sphere only to attach to the surface of the silver bauble. The blood soaked into the metal. The effect was subtle at first, but by the end of the process, the silver was crimson and it carried with it a distinct coppery smell.

Will gasped and squeezed Nico’s arm when he saw what it was that the Nameless One held in his fingers. He quickly checked the pockets of his pants just to make sure the Nameless One didn’t hold a replica.

The Nameless One smiled, teeth bared in an almost-savage grin. Will reached out for the skull pin with trembling hands. He had never let go of the pin—never let it stray too far from his person.

Will took a step back and banged his head against the door when the skull pin began to levitate off of the Nameless One’s open palm. The trinket continued to float in his direction. “Take it,” said the Nameless One, voice much gentler than the expression on his face, “You’re going to need it.”

Will looked at Nico. Nico was frowning, concern apparent on his face. Will was sure that the same look was on his own. Against his better judgment, Will reached out and snatched the silver skull pin from the air. He held it to his chest and looked at Nico, eyes wide with apprehension.

The Nameless One chuckled, the sound echoing in the cabin with the slightest hint of malevolence. The Nameless One waved his hand once, twice, thrice. As though coming turning into putty, the wood that made up the floor of the Hades cabin flowed upward.

Tendrils of dark wood rose from the floor and began to wrap around each other. They twined and tangled until they formed four legs sturdy enough to support the table that was coming into being just above. When the wood was knotted together, the Nameless One snapped his fingers and the wood turned solid again.

The Nameless One snapped his fingers again and two pairs of chairs appeared about a foot off the ground. They all hit the cabin floor at the exact same time with a raucous noise. Nico gulped audibly, but held out a hand for Will to take.

Repulsion at the light touch of Will’s fingers raced up Nico’s arm, but he didn’t want to let go either. He gestured in the direction of the table and said, “Be my guest.” There was a nervous clip to his voice, he could tell. From the way that Will looked at him with worry, he knew that Will could tell, too.

“Ah,” said the Nameless One with a very unsettling grin. Will squirmed where he sat on the cold, hard wooden chair. “You have your guest,” said the god, his form shifting into a more regal and kingly visage, “and I have mine.”

Nico tilted his head ever so slightly at the statement. Will, on the other hand, did not want to know the sort of creature that the Nameless One considered a guest. Suffice to say, both demigods were thoroughly shocked when a slowly rotating portal of swirling, shifting reds surrounded by a jagged black edge appeared atop the other chair.

At first the words were imperceptible. _Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ But the deceit could only last so long. The longer that the two demigods listened, the louder the chant became. The damned voices speaking as one filtered through the opening of the portal and wafted lazily across the air.

_Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ The words began to thrum with power. The air became still. Will clutched his head as the words began to cause him physical pain, but Nico came to the rescue and draped a corner of the drakonskin cloak over his shoulder.

_Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ Will sighed and clutched the cloak, surprised that the cloak could chase away the headache that had been building behind his eyes.

_Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._ Nico had had enough. “Yes, yes,” said Nico, harrumphing as he tapped the tips of the fingers of his free hand on the table. “I get it!”

Nico stopped tapping the table and took to twisting the silver skull ring that was around his ring finger. “Long is the day and long is the night,” said Nico with a heavy sigh. The Nameless One watched, a smile furtively touching the very corners of his lips. “And long is the waiting of Arawn!”

_Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn._

“Do you intend to make _our_ wait long as well, Arawn?” said Nico, evidently at the end of his patience. He was in no mood to be dealing with the machinations of the gods. He slammed his fist on the table yet when the chant picked up yet again with no sign of the Welsh lord of the Dead.

Finally, Arawn stepped through the portal and made himself comfortable on the dark wooden chair that the Nameless One had conjured. Nico glared at him and said, through gritted teeth, “Finally. I assume you’re here to collect on a debt.”

“You act as though I did not take you in when you were lost, little one,” said Arawn. He reached across the table to ruffle Nico’s hair, but Nico backed away from the hand as though it were poisonous. Arawn tried again, but this time, his advance was summarily slapped away by the son of Hades.

“I see you have now been awakened to the truth of the three months you spent in the company of my dear Wyn,” said Arawn. A sad smile crinkled the corners of the god’s eyes. “I am terribly sorry for what you had to endure at the hand of my adopted son.”

Before Nico could say anything, a blast of golden brilliance erupted in Arawn’s face. As the light faded, Nico could see a spot in the back of the cabin that had clearly been singed in the outline of Arawn’s head. “I have never heard anything more insincere in my life,” hissed Will, his fingers tightening around Nico’s under the table.

Nico squeezed Will’s hand to ensure Will that it was alright. As insincere as Arawn might have been, he _did_ owe a debt of gratitude to the Lord of the Dead. He had come to realize no more than a day ago that it was Arawn that had broken Wyn’s spell enough so that he could be in control of himself again.

A small smirk tugged on the corners of Arawn’s lips, and he laughed as though what Will had just done was the funniest thing he seen in a long time. As Arawn laughed, Will shivered at how the sound seemed both melodious and unnerving at the same time. Will couldn’t help but tremble at the sheer magical power that he could feel emanating from the three men sat at the table around him.

“Cute,” said Arawn, reaching across the table to pinch Will’s cheek. Will could feel Nico tense beside him, but he himself could not move out of the way of the god’s touch. “I must confess, I did not believe in how well you two were matched myself, but now that I see it, I can tell my son never stood a chance. Not without playing dirty, at least.”

Will tried to say something, but his body betrayed him. He could not get the words of protest out of his throat, but he supposed that was for the better. He glanced at Nico, for help but Nico simply shot a warning look his way, and he decided it was in his best interests to just shut up.

“If you must know,” said Arawn, wiping a tear away from the corner of his right eye; “I did come to collect on a debt. My own is less important, but the Red Dragon believes the time has come for the price you agreed to pay.”

“Oh,” said Nico, surprise in his voice. He had entirely forgotten when exactly he was supposed to pay. “I had not realized…” he said.

Nico had actually rather liked Y Ddraig Goch. The Dragon was one of the more jovial of the Welsh deities, though he could not have blamed it if it wasn’t. Being locked in near-eternal titanic struggle with another dragon could not have been a pleasant thing.

Unfortunately, Nico was not offered a chance to stay with the deity and had to make do with Arawn’s accommodations instead. It was not that he was unfit for the position, merely that Y Ddraig Goch was rather occupied with other matters encroaching on his lands.

“Aye,” said Arawn, his voice turning more solemn. “The time slipped past all of us, considering the wars that we have been fighting.” For the first time since Nico had met the Welsh god of the afterlife, he could visibly tell that Arawn was exhausted. “We are on the brink of victory, back in the Isles,” said Arawn, with a small smile, “But that is of no consequence here.”

“I have come to collect on a debt and that is what I shall do.” Arawn held out a hand to Nico expectantly. “You know the price. Three months of the most exquisite pain should be enough to repay the debt owed to myself and the red dragon.”

Nico _tried_ to react fast enough, but he had not expected Will to let go of his hand so quickly. Before anyone else could speak, Arawn found himself face-to-face with the butt of an Imperial Gold-and-ivory quarterstaff.

“Three months of exquisite pain?” hissed Will. His voice was trembling, and so was his free hand. His grip on the haft of the staff was rather solid, though, and his eyes flashed with anger. “You’re not going to lay a single finger on him unless you go through me.”

Arawn bared his teeth menacingly at Will. “You mean to stand in the way of a debt that is being rightfully ca—” Nico slammed a fist on the table, startling Will and Arawn from their mutual scowling.

“He doesn’t mean physical pain, Will,” said Nico. He grabbed Will’s arm and rather violently pulled Will back down into a sitting position. He glared at Arawn for good measure, too. “He merely means that he wants memories or representations thereof that together represent three months of my life.”

“Well,” said Arawn, his gaze flitting momentarily to the pin that Will held between his fingers. “Three months or that pin that your friend is holding over there, son of Hades.” Nico twitched where he sat. He didn’t need to look to know what Arawn was pointing at. He responded with a silent, sullen glare.

A smile twisted the corners of Arawn’s mouth. “In fact,” he said, turning to face Will. He steepled his fingers and looked at Will through them. “Why don’t you choose, son of Apollo. “Three months of his life given up to me. Gone unless he gives me something that represents those three months just as strongly as actual memories.”

“But,” said Arawn, lowering his arms to lay them flat against the table, “you could help.” Arawn gestured in the direction of the pin that Will held in his free hand. “I can sense that you carry with you something that represents something much more valuable. You can choose between me taking a significant part of him or giving me that pin in your hands.”

Nico made as though to rise from his seat, but the Nameless One stopped him with a light and gentle touch on his arm. “Don’t interfere,” said the Nameless One, his voice echoing for seemingly eternity in the confines of Nico’s mind. “This is one of the many choices that he will have to make. You cannot take this one away from him.”

“What will it be?” said Arawn, folding his arms in front of him. “Give me the pin and save him the pain of having to deal with a large part of him missing, or let him give me three months of his life that he will never get back?”

Will looked at Nico. There was a wicked thought brewing in the back of his mind. Was it possible that Nico could give Arawn all the painful memories of the time he spent with Wyn? Will knew that that would certainly put an end to all the troubles that they currently faced, but it didn’t sit well with him. That solution seemed far too easy.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow around the two of them. Will looked into Nico’s dark eyes and knew that he could not, in good conscience, allow Nico to just wipe away three months of his life. As painful as those memories might be, they were a big part of the person that Nico was now and he felt that if he had the choice, he needed to take it.

Without words, Nico shook his head and pleaded for Will to not fall for Arawn’s trick. He could see that it was much too late. Will had already decided.

“I don’t want him to suffer,” said Will. His fingers tightened around the skull pin and winced when it pricked him. The pin had been with him for so long, and had been the only thing that kept his hope alive for a year and a half that it pained him to have to part with it.

Stiffly, Will held out his arm. He opened his palm and let a rivulet of blood fall into Arawn’s waiting hand. He dropped the pin into Arawn’s palm and leaned back in his seat.

Arawn closed his eyes as a smile played upon his lips. His nostrils flared and his chest swelled as he took a single deep breath. A portal similar to the one that had opened before opened behind Arawn, only this one was surrounded by golden trim unlike Arawn’s.

A single talon, surely draconic and immense beyond comprehension, slipped through the portal. The talon alone was easily as large as Will was, but Arawn did not even flinch. He pushed it away gently when it came to a rest on his shoulders, but a huff of annoyance shook the entire cabin and Arawn reluctantly moved back to support the talon.

The tip of the claw tapped the centre of the skull’s forehead, and instantly, it turned to a read deeper than anything either Will or Nico had seen before. Once again, the cabin was filled with the smell of blood, but neither demigod could look away in disgust.

Arawn smiled as veins of liquid blood crept up his arms, swirling into fantastical patterns in some places while spiderwebbing into jagged cracks in others. Eventually, the patterns made their way to Arawn’s neck. They climbed his pale skin, swept over his jaw, and entered his nostrils.

The same happened to the draconic talon, though the rest of the Dragon was hidden away by the portal. Where the blood went, the surface of the talon took on an ivory glow, as though it had been picked clean of any impurities. A rumbling sigh of pleasure and relief exploded from Y Ddraig Goch’s portal, shaking the very foundations of the cabin.

When Arawn opened his eyes again, the sclera were as red as the blood that had just come from the silver trinket. His irises were as black as night, and his pupil seemed to swim with the knowledge of the ages.

“You may have the pin back,” said Arawn, careful to not make eye contact as he dropped the pin back into Will’s hand. Arawn blinked and the strange appearance of his eyes melted away. “A year and a half of such exquisite pain, suffering, and self-loathing is more than enough to pay the debt.”

The single draconic talon retreated through the portal as a deep and rumbling laugh echoed through the cabin. “Much more than was agreed upon, son of Hades,” said Y Ddraig Goch. Nico could almost see the savage smile on the dragon’s face. “I accept that we may be indebted to you this time.”

A long scaly maw covered in glittering crimson scales paraded past the portal. A single slitted draconic eye that gleamed with knowledge and power peered through. “I see that it was a good thing you managed to convince me to craft the sword for you.”

“What is it you said it is called now, Arawn?” said the Dragon. Arawn leaned back to allow Y Ddraig Goch to see much better into the room. “Ah, yes, Anathema.” The draconic eye blinked. “I must admit that it is a pleasure to see you once again, oh Revenant King. And I am just as glad to see that you have been reunited with your mate.”

Will looked more than a little shocked that Y Ddraig Goch acknowledged his existence. “Oh,” said the Dragon, with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don’t act so alarmed and surprised Lightbringer,” said the Dragon, “I’ve known of you for a very long time.”

The eye swivelled again to face Nico. “I trust that _Ardwyad_ is doing his job?” Nico stroked his drakonskin cloak and nodded. “Good. And I see that _Eurwen_ has found her way to the Lightbringer. All is well.”

The pleasantries over, Arawn leaned forward and looked Will in the eye. He smiled before glancing at Nico. “Tell us, Revenant King,” said Arawn, “What choice is it that you have made?”

Nico took a deep breath and once again shot a begging, apologetic look at Will. He sighed and looked at the Nameless One with despair. He did not want to do this, but it was the only way he could ensure that the pain and suffering the war would bring would be less than it would otherwise be. “Show me the palace. I will not let this be a bloodbath. A sacrifice for the good of the many.”

Arawn laughed. The sound was cold, emotionless, and unnerving. “I had a feeling you would say that,” said the god. A stack of gold and platinum coins appeared on the table in front of him as the Dragon grumbled from the portal.

Arawn reached over and clapped a hand on Nico’s shoulder. Nico was frozen where he stood in shock. “I knew you would have the strength to choose the right thing.”

“Do you mean to imply that I did not believe the Revenant King strong?” said Y Ddraig Goch with annoyance clear on his voice. “I believed him to be noble enough—but naive all the same—that he would look for another way.” The draconic eye turned its full attention to Nico. “Remember, child. In war, neither strength nor nobility matter. Only survival and ensuring that as few of your own people suffer as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. Nico. WHAT HAVE YOU DONEEEE?
> 
> *gasp* Well. *cackles evilly* What did you think of this chapter? I hope it wasn't too boring. It was a lot of exposition and dialogue. Was it engaging, at least? Do you feel Nico made the right choice?
> 
> As usual, leave a kudos if you like the story so far, and leave a comment if you want to make my day. I've finally found my groove again, so I can at least tell all of you that the next three weeks' updates have already been secured. :D.


	45. Smoke and Mirrors

“You remember the place, right?” said Nico, a frantic energy buzzing under his skin. This was the first time he had ever visited the War Hall at Theopolis. It was less opulent than he had expected, but truth be told he was already rather fond of it.

The War Hall had threadbare furnishings. Frescoes within were half-painted. Roughly pencilled-in sketches of sure-to-be marvellous scenes still dominated the walls. Everywhere there wasn’t activity was covered in a fine coating of marble dust from the carvers, and there were paint-cans and brushes scattered everywhere.

Nico couldn’t blame the demigods for the state of the neglect that was apparent in the War Hall. It was simply too easy, after two major wars in a single lifetime, and the loss of so many lives before their time, to wish so deeply that another would not come for many years yet.

It broke Nico’s heart that he had been the one to bear the tidings that no one had wanted, but there was no turning back now. As he leaned over the three ping-pong tables laid end to end to proxy for the still-absent war table, he found himself thinking of how this was already such an improvement over the impromptu “war hall” that they had managed to raise in Damasen’s hut.

At the very least, Theopolis seemed to be a place conducive to the kind of thinking that bore good strategies. Tartarus, as friendly as it had become, was not.

Nico looked up and saw that Percy was gawking at him from across the war table. Everyone else was looking down intently at the surface of the “table,” where a shimmering holographic image, of all the territories that the Greek and Roman demigods had access to, floated.

“I do,” said Percy, after a moment of deafening silence in the near-empty war hall. Nico watched as one of Percy’s fingers dipped into a cloud that was hovering somewhere above Florida and swirled it around. “But…” Percy heaved a sigh. “Can’t Hades just open a doorway to the Underworld and get all this over with?”

Nico leaned over the table, fingers splayed to either side of a blown-up image of Hawaii. There was a red blinking light at the top of Mauna Kea. Nico suspected that Nyx had a base of operations there. “The Door of Orpheus is your best and easiest bet to get to Tartarus.”

“Let’s not forget, either,” said Nico, looking with a hard gaze first at Percy, then at Hades and Poseidon who were standing against the far wall. “That with the gods cut off from Olympus, they are much weaker now than they were at the height of their power.”

“Even if we had Olympus, father can’t just open a gate into Tartarus. The best he can probably do is drop you off near one of the known entrances to Tartarus, but that’s probably what Nyx expects anyway.”

“But let’s not talk about getting to Tartarus just yet,” said Nico. There was uncomfortable shuffling to either side of him, but he felt a gentle, reassuring touch on his arm. He stopped, for a moment, and looked at Will. Will nodded at him, and he felt the trembling in his knees stop.

“Let’s talk about getting you safely to the _Door_ ,” said Nico. “I don’t care what you think, Percy, but you can’t just charge in there right now like you’ve been insisting on doing for the last hour and a half.” Nico tapped his fingers on the table. “This is why this is called a strategy meeting for gods’ sake! Running up to the enemy and repeatedly bashing them with a sword is not a good strategy. Ever!”

“But Annabeth’s in danger!” said Percy. Nico could see those sea-green eyes flash with anger as Percy brought a fist down on the table. He felt a pang of pity for Florida, but just a little. What remained of Florida, at least. Percy had flattened it into the Gulf of Mexico.

“We have to do something now! You said we couldn’t go while it was the dawn, and now you don’t want us to go when the sun is high in the sky?!” Nico tensed as Percy gripped the edge of the table. From the way Percy’s knuckles turned white, he was afraid Percy was about to flip the table. “Every moment we waste here puts Annabeth in more and more danger!”

“Don’t be stupid, Jackson,” said Reyna. Nico noted for the first time that she was wearing her full Praetor regalia, and that her two hounds were at her sides. “It makes perfect sense why we can’t go there right now. It’s too predictable. If you think we know what Nyx’ weakness is, then she _definitely_ knows it, too.”

“Thank you, Reyna,” said Nico, the exasperation beginning to creep into his voice. There was guilt there, too, but he was sure that no one around the table could pick up on it. “Nyx would know that this is her weakest time of day and has likely taken steps to make sure she isn’t easy pickings.”

“If you asked me,” said Reyna. She leaned forward on the table, put out her hands, and pulled up an image of Central Park, where a bright blue blip clearly outlined the image of the Door of Orpheus. “If we were to rush headlong to that park right this moment, there will be an army waiting for us.”

The image of Central Park vanished into a puff of mist as a chilling voice emanated from the goddess standing next to Lou Ellen. Hecate had come to the meeting. Mist clung to her very form as she draped an arm around the shoulders of her daughter. “But it would be a simple matter for my daughter and myself to hide the group. Perhaps we could even get them through the door without much harm.”

“It’s true!” said Lou Ellen, sounding rather excited at the prospect of getting to wield her magic. “Mom and I managed to recreate Annabeth’s invisibility cap!”

Hecate pulled Lou Ellen closer to her side. “This is a mission of utmost importance,” she said, as though the gods and the demigods needed a reminder of the fact. “If Nyx thinks that she can just waltz into the camp and take an entire _cabin_ , she must be made to answer for it.”

“Need I remind you all,” said Hecate, voice trembling with conviction, “That all of our demigod children are in this camp? If Athena’s children were taken without much effort, whose could be next?”

A murmur arose from the gathered gods and demigods, but Nico quickly silenced them all by banging his fist on the table repeatedly. “You might well be able to take them to the Door, Hecate,” he said, eyeing the torches that hung to either side of Hecate’s hips.

“Once you arrive there, however,” said Nico, “how would you open the Door without alerting the forces of Nyx to your presence? Orpheus’ door requires music to open, and I doubt that as powerful as you surely are, you would be able to deceive an entire army of unfeeling, unthinking beasts.

The room began to shake and tremble with a terrible energy as Hecate’s anger seemed to coalesce around her very form. She grew to ten times her present size as darkness pooled around her and the torches that were in her belt caught fire and flew into her hands.

Whipping about as though in an unseen tempest, the tendrils of mist that clung to Hecate swirled through the room. The flickering blue-green fires of her torches cast dancing shadows that made her face seem terrifying to behold.

Hecate crossed the torches before her and keened with a mournful and angry wail. The very foundations of the hall cracked at the terrible sound and the display of power. “You challenge the power of my Mist?” said Hecate, her gaze incredulous as it alighted upon this one small demigod that seemed, despite her display, to be unfazed.

Nico rolled his eyes and gestured with his fingers. Black mist with fine golden grains flitted between his digits, and a spark of golden light jumped from him to Hecate’s chest.

Hecate’s eyes grew wide as the illusions of the Mist were stripped from her form. Nico was certain she could feel the power being stripped away from her as webs of golden light criss-crossed down the length of her body. Darkness fell away from her form and she shrank back down to her normal height. Her torches died out and the mist that clung about her returned to its placid state.

Hecate sagged forward, eyes wide and chest heaving. She gawked at Nico, truthfully afraid of the power that this one small demigod held to be able to strip away the strength of a goddess.

“Nyx and her forces will not be like anything that any of you here have fought before,” said Nico. “This isn’t just about the Greeks and the Romans anymore. In our long histories together, Nyx has never risen against us and for good reason. There are other gods meddling in the matters of the Graeco-Roman world, and none of their intentions are good for any of us.”

“I am certain that should they apply themselves, any of Nyx’s greater minions can do to any of you gods gathered here what I have just done to Hecate.” Nico shook his head. “The odds may seem insurmountable, but we _must_ fight and win if we are to survive.”

The unexpected voice of Poseidon thundered from one end of the hall, where he and Hades had been thus far quietly watching the proceedings. “Then what is the point of fighting this war if the enemy can undo everything we try?”

Every single head in the War Hall turned to look at Poseidon, their faces a mixture of confusion and outrage. Nico was taken aback by what Poseidon had just said. “You cannot seriously be considering surrendering before the war has even begun, brother,” said Hades.

“Yes,” said Poseidon, pushing away from the wall to walk toward the war table. “I seriously can.” Poseidon looked away from Hades and looked at Nico. “What is the worst that could happen?” he said. Nico could tell that Poseidon wasn’t very convinced by his own point, but he decided to let Poseidon speak anyway.

“Nyx does not seem to have a particularly good reason to rise up against us,” said Poseidon. He gestured at an unfinished fresco of the fireball that had consumed Gaea on the left-hand wall. “Gaea hated us for what we did to the Gigantes. Kronos, understandably, wanted to have his throne and his power back.”

“What could Nyx possibly want from us that she is prepared to go to all out war with us for it?” said Poseidon. Hades shook his head in disbelief. Athena looked like she was about to walk over to Poseidon and kill him with her bare hands.

Nico could see all the angered looks, but truth be told, he also understood where it was that Poseidon was coming from. “Lord Poseidon makes a good point and asks a good question that must be answered before we can move forward,” said Nico with a small respectful nod toward the lord of Theopolis.

There was a murmur of disdain among the gathered gods and demigods as they turned to face Nico. He didn’t quail under the pressure, though he _did_ realize just then that he was standing at the head of the table. He hadn’t even given his position a second thought upon arriving.

“I do?” said Poseidon. Poseidon sounded both incredulous and flabbergasted to Nico. He couldn’t help but smile inward with satisfaction.

“He does?” said Hades and Athena at once. The goddess had something of a sneer on her voice, though Nico could see a curious twinkle in her eye.

“He does,” said Nico, addressing Athena after shooting a glance at Poseidon. “And allow me to provide _my_ answer to that question. You will all have to make up your own answers after I speak.”

Nico turned to Poseidon. “Tell me, Poseidon. You have been a god on American soil for as long as this proud nation has been standing. If you were in Nyx’s position, with two of the most powerful opponents of the gods having fallen to the heroes of Greece and Rome in quick succession. What would motivate you to war against the demigods of Olympus?”

Poseidon was quiet for a very long time. “Conquest,” he said, finally. Athena shook her head and looked to Poseidon only to meet a very irate glare. “But I think it’s more than just that. She wants to strike first. She wants to destroy us before we can destroy her like we did Gaea.”

“Precisely,” said Nico. He turned his attention to the rest of the table. “But it’s even more than that. This war doesn’t stop with us being defeated, if we are unable to stop Nyx.”

Nico shook his head as the room darkened around him. “Gaea’s plans are miniature compared to what Nyx has dreamed up over the many thousands of years that led to this day.”

“What do you mean?” said Athena. She leaned forward in her seat, her fingers joined together as she propped up her elbows on the table. One of her elbows jabbed right into the heart of a projected version of Alaska. “You speak as though Nyx knew of this turning of events long before they happened and made preparations in line with them.”

“You’re right,” said Nico. “She did.” He shook his head again. “As far as I understand it, she was given the briefest peek into the infinite branches of possibility that led right up to this previous night.”

“And how is it that you know all of this?” said Aphrodite, eyebrow raised in Nico’s direction. For once, it seemed as though Aphrodite was genuinely interested in this talk of strategy.

Nico wasn’t going to say anything out loud, but he had spied her doodling out of the corner of his eye. His augmented vision had deciphered the contents of the little notepad. It had a rather grand ball gown on it with a note that said ‘ _find out what colours the spilt blood of enemies has.’_

“Because the person who gave Nyx the information told me what he did. He also trained me,” said Nico.

“That Nameless One fellow is really starting to get on my nerves,” said Demeter, whose hair was currently being braided by one of her daughters. A couple of seeds of barley flew from her seed and quickly germinated to overgrow what should have been Saskatchewan.

Demeter tapped her fingers on the table. “Is he on our side or is he not? Why would he even give Nyx this knowledge to make our lives more difficult?”

“He works in mysterious ways, sister,” said Hades with a tight smirk in his lips.

Nico rolled his eyes at his father, but Demeter spoke before he could get a chance to. “Don’t tell me you buy into that bull,” said Demeter, narrowing her eyes at her brother-slash-son-in-law.

“Father is right,” said Nico. “As cryptic and roundabout as his ways might be, he has always had _my_ best interests at heart. The Nameless One helped Nyx, yes, but he also gave me the means with which to defeat her in Anathema.”

Nico took a deep breath. He did not blame any of those gathered in the hall with him for their doubts. Truth be told, there were still days he wondered if this was all a cruel joke being played on him by the Nameless One. Then again, he knew better than to doubt his mentor now.

“None of us can be certain about what drives him to do the things that he does, but while he is both invaluable help and insufferable hindrance to us, he _should_ be irrelevant to our plans.” Nico sighed. “There is nothing we can do about him. He will do as he wants, and he is certainly powerful enough that none of us can stop him.”

“I don’t blame any of you,” said Nico, with a purposeful look at Will, “If none of you believe me about him. He has always told me that he would rather have people come to their own understanding of him.”

“However,” said Nico, looking at the Seven and Reyna in turn, “I would like to rest assured in the knowledge that you all trust _me_.” Nico slammed his fist on the table angrily. “Someone stop Perseus Jackson from getting himself killed. Now!”

All heads turned in the direction of the seat that Percy had occupied moments before, only to find that he was missing. There was a disgruntled yelp that filled the hall after the doors to the main room all slammed shut. Nico watched as Percy picked himself up off of the floor and glared at everyone at the table.

“Now, where was I?” said Nico, turning his attention back to the people at the table. “Nyx will not stop with the defeat of the gods and demigods of Greece and Rome. As we speak, a coalition of the eldest deities the world over is forming.”

“Over the last hundred years, our many cultures have begun to come together. The barriers between them have begun to crumble. We are leaping headlong into a new era for humanity and for us, the bridges between them and the divine.”

“And, as always,” said Nico, with a meaningful gaze at everyone around him. “This new era comes with new dangers. This coalition of gods and goddesses neither good nor evil but _primal_ by their very nature is the first sign of the repercussions of the changing mortal world in the world of the divine.”

“By no means is this war with Nyx the end of all our troubles.” Nico shook his head, what the Nameless One had told him still haunting him all these years later. “The plans laid out by Nyx are but echoes of plans laid down by other gods and goddesses across our world.”

“This isn’t just about us anymore,” said Nico, “but we cannot do anything about the others. Their gods and their wars are as foreign to us as ours are to them. We would only be getting in the way. But we must lend our hand to this effort. We have to stop Nyx, and that is the only way that we can help the rest of the world.”

A hushed silence had fallen over the gathered heroes, cabin counsellors and gods. “Their ultimate goal isn’t simply to rule over the earth,” whispered Nico. His voice, for all it softness, was still resonant in the war hall.

“Just like mankind once turned its eyes to the heavens to seek knowledge and to marvel at the stars, so to did its gods.” Nico closed his eyes and took a deep breath following the murmur of assent from the minor gods. “Now that mankind’s ambitions drive it to rise to and _conquer_ the stars, so too do the gods’.”

“Our defeat, if it happens, won’t be the end. These gods and goddesses will scour the face of the earth clean of opposition, but they won’t stop there. They will not be satisfied with what remains and though they will surely squabble, one desire will unite them in the end.”

“They will want to extend their dominion to the words that number as the stars in the sky and beyond.”

\----------

Annabeth woke to a sickening, cloying fear in the pit of her stomach. Without opening her eyes, she could tell that she was in a place that she never wanted to be again. The very air itself was thick with the stench of the things that humanity feared in its deepest, most primal of hearts.

Annabeth took another breath of the darkness. The shadows that closed around her only reinforced the insidious terror within her. She feared opening her eyes, but even more, she feared remaining blind to the horrors that were sure to be around her.

Annabeth took a deep breath, the air stinging as it went down her throat. She opened her eyes and tried to move her limbs to find some light but found that she could not. She struggled to move her arms and her legs, but to no avail. She could move her head, but that was about it. She wanted to scream, but no sounds would come from her mouth.

Annabeth was beginning to panic. Without her limbs and without her words, how was she supposed to use her wits to escape this situation? Terror gripped her seemingly-nonexistent limbs, but she tried to force herself to remain calm.

Annabeth turned her eyes up again, but all she saw in the darkness was two bright points of starlight that seemed to be far off in the distance. She didn’t know how it was that she knew what she did, but she could tell by the sight alone that the left pinprick of starlight, bright and bluish-white, was the star Sirius in Canis Minoris.

Annabeth squinted in the darkness to get a fix on the other speck. This one was an ugly scathing orange. It was certainly larger than the other. She could tell that this one was Aldebaran from the shoulder of Orion.

“A pleasure to finally find you awake, child of Athena,” said a sonorous voice that seemed to come from anywhere and everywhere at once. It was almost as though the darkness itself was talking to Annabeth. “I cannot lie. I have been looking forward to this day with great anticipation.”

Annabeth shivered at the sound of the voice, and as terrifying as it was to hear, it almost felt like a lullaby drawing her into gentle sleep. Annabeth’s eyelids drooped. She felt her body—still outside of her own control—pitch forward and jerk awake.

Annabeth squinted as a soft sphere of dim light appeared in the air in front of her. She tried to look beyond the cloud of light, but the two points of starlight had vanished.

Annabeth would have screamed if she could have, but she couldn’t. She felt something smooth and cold drag across the flesh of her shoulder. In its wake, her skin felt like it was burning with the most intense pain she had ever experienced. Annabeth looked down on her shoulder and saw a whip of night sky and starlight coiled around her shoulder.

“I am sure you have now realized that you cannot move a single muscle,” said Nyx. Her slender fingers grazed the flesh of Annabeth’s other shoulder. She passed Annabeth and came around to the other side of the light, just far enough to still be shrouded by the darkness. “You won’t even be able to speak,” said Nyx, the sneer plain on her voice.

“You may have used your silver tongue to escape me once,” hissed Nyx, “but I will not make that same mistake again.” Annabeth watched as the two points of starlight in the all-consuming darkness slowly descended.

Annabeth heard the creak of wood. She could only assume that Nyx had sat down across from her. “But,” said Nyx, as she bared her teeth in a terrifying smile. Each tooth sparkled like diamond in the darkness, gathering whatever dim light was in the air. “I am, however, more than open to making new mistakes.”

Annabeth watched as a dark hand speckled with starlight reached into the cloud of dim light. Slender fingers tipped with fingernails of moonlight swirled in the air, as glittering motes of light followed their motion. In a puff of darkness, a table and a chessboard appeared in front of Annabeth.

“Let us see just how good that strategic mind of yours is,” said Nyx. “I would like this war to be more than just a bloodbath. If you prove yourself worthy, I will let you live. I will let you go unscathed to make this war all the more interesting.”

Annabeth tried to ask for a guarantee, but all she could manage was a low groaning sound. “How do you know if I am saying the truth?” said Nyx, with another smile. “Because I swear upon the River Styx that I, Nyx, Protogenoi of the Night will release you, Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, should you defeat me in a simple game of chess.”

“You may move the pieces with your mind, but that is all that I will let you do,” said Nyx as the light between her and Annabeth flared. The brilliance of the light revealed the appallingly beautiful face of Nyx, her teeth bared and white as moonlight. “Shall we begin?”

Annabeth nodded. There was a sickening sense of worry in her gut, but the darkness of Tartarus squeezed her and prodded at her mind. Her thoughts came sluggishly, but fear ruled everything. All she wanted to do was leave this damned place.

Nyx had offered Annabeth a way out, and she was sure that she could beat the goddess in a simple game of chess.

Nyx picked up the pearlescent white pawn that stood before the bishop on her king’s side and smiled at Annabeth. She moved it forward one square, leaned back, and folder her arms with a smug smile.

Annabeth looked at the state of the board and realized that Nyx had just performed the worst possible opening move in all of chess. A faint hope began to blossom in the back of her mind. Maybe she didn’t need her words to trick Nyx, after all.

Annabeth had thought the goddess of Night would have been a lot more intimidating. Considering this rather unexpected turn of events, and the ordeal with Nyx’s brood, she began to feel like she wasn’t in as much danger as she thought she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Remember when I said there would only be just a few more chapters until the series was finished? Well, I realized I had a whole lot more to show and do, and a whole lot more loose ends to tie up. So, don't be too surprised if this thing goes on for a month or so more, because there's just a _lot_ to get through. :3.
> 
> Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? Who has a feeling Percy's going to do something stupid and get himself killed? Show of hands, pleaase? :3. What do you think of the promise that Nyx made to Annabeth? What game is Nyx playing at, and why did she promise to release Annabeth so _easily_. She's obviously very _bad_ at chess.
> 
> :3. As usual, if you liked the story so far, leave a kudos, and if you would like to make my day, leave a comment! <3 that would be most definitely appreciated. <3


	46. The Game

Nyx moved her queen-side knight forward. They were seven moves each into the game, and Annabeth was pleasantly surprised to find that Nyx was utterly terrible at chess. The goddess leaned back, starry eyes twinkling with pride and self-satisfaction.

Annabeth still couldn’t quite figure out what game it was that Nyx was playing. She didn’t know why the goddess seemed so confident in her moves. Annabeth knew that the way Nyx was playing, she was going to win her freedom in just under three moves.

\----------

It glittered under the weakening eye of day. With each passing moment, it grew more and more beautiful. It was perched upon a cliff that overlooked the westernmost point of the United States of America. _It_ was the palace of Nyx manifested in the world above.

To say that the palace of Nyx was merely _grand_ was as blasphemous against its beauty as claiming that god is dead in the face of the pope. One could say that the palace was ostentatious, obtrusive, lavish, ornate, or opulent. To say that it was simply _grand_ was an offense worthy of a sound slap to the face.

The fact that the palace was grandiose was not lost to the general who looked to storm its walls come midnight. Nico leaned forward where he sat, his chin propped up on the backs of his hands. His palms and fingers were wrapped around the hilt of Anathema, the sword’s very tip driven into the ground to act like a stand for his face.

Seated with his legs crossed beside Nico, was Will. The son of Apollo squirmed where he sat. From where Nico was, he could tell that Will’s entire body was thrumming with a nervous energy.

Nico had briefly considered taking his boyfriend with him in storming the walls of Nyx’s palace, but he couldn’t, in good conscience, do it. He could already see how uncomfortable the mere edge of Nyx’s domain made Will. He didn’t want to make Will suffer by taking him into the heart of it.

It was understandable, really. Nico didn’t blame Will. Will was born to one of the prime gods of Olympus, after all. The god of the sun, even. To be in the presence of such a powerful manifestation of night—that one force powerful enough to quench the flame of morn—was predictably unsettling.

Will was trying his best to act as though he were busy twirling his short gold-and-ivory rod between his fingers. Nico could see out of the corner of his eye that Will stole brief glances his way every now and again.

Above the two demigods stretched a massive archway—the gateway to Nyx’s domain in the world above. In the morning light, it had looked like a marble construct like any other; it had been a catenary arch made of pale stone and nothing more.

As sunset swept through the land, the arch took on another visage entirely. What had once been plain marble began to grow subtle shapes upon its surface. Channels carved themselves into the stone. The channels grew and intertwined with each other, turning into illustrations of the darkness that came before creation, and the explosion of brilliance that followed as a result of Chaos’ boredom.

The scenes themselves slowly eroded as the sunset progressed, leaving, eventually, only circles connected by thick lines. Even those lines and circles slowly turned to dust, leaving only pinpricks and thin threads connecting them.

As the sun set slowly underneath the waves of the Pacific, the marble began to lose its milky sheen, it took instead on the ever-shifting colours of the twilight.

Nico and Will remained motionless where they sat as the sun took a dive below the tide, quenching its flames in the vast ocean. The archway itself began to take on a more translucent appearance, seemingly taking on the form of liquid glass contained in the shape of an arch. It was still coloured by the reds and yellows and blues that streaked across the sky.

The final sliver of sunlight sank calmly beneath the waves. Nico could not help but think to himself how deceptively quiet the day had been thus far. No doubt, there was preparation within the palace for a siege.

Before Nico could think much else on the matter, a flash of green light filled the sky for as far as the eye could see. Nico had expected the green flash, but not quite how dramatic it would be.

They had finally, truly, entered into the domain of Nyx. Nico turned his eyes to the half of the archway that rose to one side of him and watched as a wave of green light began to climb it.

Nico turned the other way and saw that Will was warily watching the light climb his side of the arch as well. He turned his eyes back to the side closer to him. Where the green light touched the colours of sunset was a blurry line. Behind that rising green line, all that was left behind was a deep darkness in the shape of the arch, one speckled with tiny points of dim starlight.

In that starry darkness, the same carvings from before, that had been eroded as the day grew old, returned to life much changed. The pinpricks and threads of stone that had been all that remained of the carvings instead turned to constellations that were bright with starlight and thrummed with the power of Nyx.

“It’s time,” said Nico. His voice was soft, and halfway through the words, it cracked. He hadn’t spoken in the last couple of hours.

Nico turned to face Will and forced a smile upon his face. They had already spent much of the day talking about what was to come, and there was truly nothing more to be said of their separate campaigns.

Nico held out a hand, but it cramped at the same time that bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t quite believe how revolting he still found affection to be. He had thought he was making progress. Perhaps it was simply the added stress of the war he was going to wage that night that kept him from being able to control himself.

Nevertheless, Nico persevered. If he was anything, he was stubborn. He reached across the distance between himself and Will and held Will’s hand. He threaded his fingers between Will’s and squeezed, relishing the warmth and comfort that the gesture gave him. It felt so good—so right—to hold Will this way that it almost washed away all the revulsion that he felt at that moment.

Nico thought it was only appropriate that just as he was making headway back into allowing himself to be affectionate again, the fates conspired to stay his progress.

Nico leaned toward Will. He made sure his eyes were open this time. He wanted his mind to be well aware that this was Will, not Wyn. He pressed a kiss to Will’s lips: one that was chaste but at the same time passionate, reluctant but at the same time tender.

“Be careful,” whispered Nico, pushing himself off of the ground and onto his feet. He pulled Will up with him, and before thoughts of Wyn could poison the precious moment, he pulled Will closer and wrapped his arms around his lover. He said the words again. “Be careful.”

A tremor ran up the length of Nico’s spine. The unwanted image of Wyn’s arms around him surfaced in his mind. He jerked away from Will, his breathing uneven, rapid, and shallow until he managed to regain his composure.

Nico looked up and saw in Will’s eyes an expression halfway between concern and gratitude. Despite himself, he smiled at Will. The slight turning of the corners of Nico’s lips was enough to draw the same from Will.

Will walked up to Nico. He stood uncomfortably close, even. Nico could tell that there was something that Will wanted to say to him. A particular three-word phrase that involved a particular 4-letter L-word, for sure. “I will be,” said Will, instead, after what seemed to be an eternity of silence.

Will put his hands on Nico’s shoulders and squeezed hard. Nico sucked in a breath as Will’s eyes darted to Anathema. Nico had left the sword stabbed into the ground for the moment. “You better come back to me, death boy,” said Will, in a voice thick and laden with emotions. There was humour there, as far as Nico could tell, but it was overwhelmingly a plea.

Nico raised a trembling hand and stroked the side of Will’s face with the back of it. Will shivered and leaned into the touch. “I swear it on the Styx,” said Nico. The two of them waited a moment for the familiar rumble of the oath taking, but it did not come. Nevertheless, Will nodded. His lips quirked up into a small smile.

Nico couldn’t help but chuckle. No words needed to be said between the two of them. They stood there motionless but for the few steps that Nico took back to a more comfortable distance. He couldn’t quite handle the proximity, yet, but Will’s presence grounded him. Helped a lot.

Dark eyes stared into blue ones as what seemed to be an eternity of peace passed. Eventually they looked away from each other, the prospect of being apart on a night as important as this suddenly a weight unbearable upon their shoulders.

Nico and Will looked behind them, at the yawning portal that Arawn and Y Ddraig Goch had opened just beyond the purview of Nyx’s domain. Beyond it, they could see the mighty host that Y Ddraig Goch had managed to amass to help in this single hopefully-decisive raid on Nyx’s palace.

Nico knew well enough that the Greeks and the Romans could not help any of the other demigods in the world. They were simply too few, many of them too weary of war. They were also too mortal. The Welsh, though, had just won their war and were more than ready to help the others if they could.

Nico’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched the black trim on the edge of the swirling crimson portal. He felt a warm hand on his arm. “Don’t worry,” said Will, voice thick with tears that simply would not come. “I’m sure you’ll be forgiven. I don’t think anyone has it in them to hate _you_. Why would they?”

Nico looked at Will and smiled almost patronizingly. “You would be surprised,” said Nico. “I’m a son of Hades. Bearing grudges is something that I know better than most. Trust me, it is far too easy to hate someone without recourse if you had the excuse to.”

Nico grasped Will’s hand on his shoulder with his free hand. “Go,” he whispered, and gently peeled Will’s fingers off of his arm. Nico watched as Will took a reluctant step toward the portal.

First one foot, then the other. Will looked over his shoulder at Nico, and the next step came much more hesitantly than the last. “Go,” said Nico, more firmly this time. He forced down his hand, that wanted to reach out to Will, down to his side. It took a lot more effort to control himself than he had expected, but he knew that it was for the best.

Nico knew that Will was better off on the other side of things, helping Percy get to the Door of Orpheus. Will would only get in the way here, he was certain. Besides, Nico was also certain that if anyone was well-equipped to handle what would most-assuredly happen to Percy Jackson, it was Will Solace.

Nico watched as Will took another step, this one taking him halfway into the portal. The way that Will kept looking at him created a knot of cold fear in the pit of his stomach.

Nico nodded, numbly, as Will stepped through. He stiffly turned away from the swirling crimson of the portal and stood over Anathema. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, channelling the power that the Nameless One had bequeathed upon him into an aura of darkness that clung to his skin.

Shadows gathered around Nico’s feet when he took a deep breath and scattered, fleeing from him when he released it. He hummed a tune in an ancient tongue that made the very fabric of reality around him shiver and quake.

The shadows climbed up Nico’s limbs, surging forward only to fall back to the same beat as his breaths. Nico wrenched Anathema free of the earth, and stepped back as a rift opened in the ground before him. The sulfurous odour of the River of Fire billowed up from the rift in a cloud of black smoke.

Anathema thrummed with power in Nico’s hands. He steeled himself as light, pitch black as shadow, streamed down the length of the blade. At the edges of the ray of light, it turned ash-grey. He cleft the world in twain with his sword of black fire and ash.

Nico held Anathema out in front of him and intoned a single word: “ _rise_.”

The undead armies of the Revenant King melted out of the shadows that pooled at his feet. Skeletal centurions and hoplites spilled forth onto the ground in front of Nico, their voices an indistinct chattering for vengeance against the Night-Mother that had taken all of them in their sleep.

The rift at Nico’s feet widened, and flames began to spill out with the black smoke of the Phlegethon. Men and women in the image of the Terracotta warriors of China climbed out of the pit of hell to join in the war. Knights of silver armour and black from the time of the Black Plague arose as well, voices rasping in their native tongues.

A small smile twisted the corners of Nico’s lips as the army of his vengeful dead shambled onward through the archway. It was nearly time.

\----------

Annabeth gathered her will and moved an obsidian pawn diagonally forward to capture Nyx’s exposed night. She still couldn’t understand what it was that the goddess was doing. Now, more than ever, she was convinced that she was playing into a trap. There was no way that Nyx had not noticed the kind of vulnerable position she had placed her knight in.

As the pale ivory knight drifted over to rest outside of the board on Annabeth’s side, the daughter of Athena sighed inwardly. The darkness of Tartarus was closing around her, and while her heart fluttered in her chest with panic, she had regained some semblance of rational thought.

This was a trap, Annabeth thought to herself. It had to be. And yet, as much as she wanted to try and get herself out of this trap, Annabeth knew that there was no way that she could.

Annabeth _had_ to play along with Nyx’s game. Without her words, and without the use of her limbs, the only thing that Annabeth had remaining was her mind. She had already tried moving anything _other_ than her own pieces, but that hadn’t worked.

Nyx leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. From where Annabeth was sat, it looked like the goddess had rather enjoyed something she had just seen. Nyx moved another ivory piece well into range of another of Annabeth’s pawns. This time, the piece was a bishop.

As far as Annabeth could tell, Nyx was not playing with any particular strategy. Concern and hubris warred within her. She was afraid of the deeper game that Nyx was playing, but at the same time, she _still_ felt as though it would be rather easy to beat the goddess. Ultimately, the fear of Tartarus won out. All she wanted to do was get out of Tartarus.

\----------

Truth be told, Will Solace had expected to remain in the back of the group. He had expected instruction to hang back just in case anyone needed healing immediately. He had never thought that Perseus Jackson would insist on having him in front of the group, right in the thick of battle.

Will was afraid. More afraid now than he had ever been. His brothers had also taken the lead in the previous wars, and they were now dead. He didn’t want to die. He was afraid of what Nico might do if he did.

As terrified as he was, though, there was some primal part of Will that was giddy with excitement at being placed in the front line of battle. It was a strange exultation that fed fire to his veins and made him vibrate with nervous energy.

There was guilt dwelling in the back of Will’s mind, but like he and Nico had promised earlier, they would deal with the consequences of Nico’s choice and Will’s complacency in it when the night was done. For now, Will allowed himself to live in the moment, eyes darting every which way, ears open for even the slightest indication that something had gone wrong.

There were quite a few demigods that had accompanied Will, Nico, Piper, and Reyna on this campaign. There was a big enough force that remained back at the camp to defend it should the need arise, but twenty of the best fighters had been conscripted for this rescue mission.

Normally, Chiron would have never allowed such a large party to leave the camp all at once. This was a special occasion, though, and Athena had insisted rather forcefully. The Hunters of Artemis had also lent their help, and though they were late, there were a few already on the way.

Athena herself had demanded to come, but Apollo had managed to convince her that she would be of the most help in the camp. Even Athena had to concede to the fact that it seemed as though she was being targeted. She had to admit that rushing into battle, well aware that she could be captured, too, was needlessly risky.

As it stood, the camp was vulnerable enough from attack. The last thing that the demigods of Greece and Rome needed was to lose their greatest strategic mind.

Unable to deny the wisdom of the other gods, Athena had acquiesced, on the condition that she be allowed to guide the demigods on their mission. No one had objected. At least Athena would be safe, and, if need be, would be present to lend her considerable powers to defending the camp itself.

Will looked up at the star-speckled sky. It wasn’t supposed to be this clear, and it was only more evidence that Nyx’s influence was creeping into the mortal world from the Underworld. Just as Nico had predicted, the night was much darker here in Central Park than anywhere else in New York.

Will squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of the waxing gibbous moon through the thick canopy that stretched overhead. Only the pale light of the moon made it possible to navigate—with great effort—the thick woods that had magically sprung up around the Door of Orpheus.

Will felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He looked over to his side as Percy motioned two fingers forward, crouched, and began to quietly weave his way through the underbrush. Will looked to his other flank just as Clarisse rolled her eyes and followed Percy.

Will turned around and raised an arm in the agreed upon signal to tell Reyna what was going on. The praetor had, despite originally wanting to be in front, agreed to take up the rear guard in case anything sneaked up on them. Reyna nodded her head and melted sideways into the trees, along with her two hounds, Frank, and Hazel.

Will followed Percy’s example, but before long, he felt a tremor climb his leg. At first, he thought that it was simply his anxiety making itself known, but it wasn’t. Moments later, the tremor came again. And then again.

Will stopped immediately in his tracks. He straightened slightly, ears straining for anything that might tell him about where the tremors were coming from. He felt a warm body bump into his back. He only _just_ managed to catch himself from pitching over forward. “Will!” hissed Piper under her breath. “What are you doing?”

Will looked first forward, then to either side. When he was satisfied that there wasn’t anything in the immediate vicinity, he turned to face Piper. “Wait,” he whispered, placing a single finger on his lips. “Listen. Do you feel that?” he said.” Piper frowned and looked in the direction Will was looking.

Another tremor reverberated through the earth. Piper’s eyes grew wide, but she kept her quiet. They waited with bated breath for another. It didn’t come. It was a tense long while before they allowed themselves to relax, but as soon as they did, they heard a soft sniffing pierce the silence of the night.

\----------

Nyx moved her only remaining bishop across the board. One of Annabeth’s ivory pawns rose by its own accord from the board and deposited itself on Nyx’s side with the three other pawns that Nyx had managed to capture.

The bishop landed on a black square, one trimmed with gold and speckled with what seemed to be chips of silver. “At last,” said Nyx, looking up at Annabeth with a twinkle in her starry eyes. There was a chilling tone to her otherwise soothing voice. “Some progress.”

\----------

“Hey Wyn,” said Jason, voice light and playful as he looked up at the star-spangled night sky. The Welshman was busy dusting himself off. “Look up!” he said, pulling on the corner of Wyn’s cardigan sleeve. His other arm was draped over the shoulders of the rather sheepish-looking Welshman.

“I wish you would stop picking at my sleeve,” said Wyn, frowning at the fingers that were pinching the cloth of one of the few cardigans he’d brought with him from Wales. “You’re going to make my cardigan loose before I’m ready to let it go,” said Wyn, swatting Jason’s hand away.

Jason rolled his eyes. He was sure that Wyn was just feeling a little irate about the fact that he had nearly face-planted into the sidewalk. Jason had rescued him, of course. “Look up!” said Jason. Little did he know that the reason Wyn had nearly had an accident was that Wyn was busy fantasizing about what to do to get his vengeance on the Nameless One and the other blond he’d seen with Nico.

“What are you talking about, Jace?” said Wyn, craning his neck skyward. He expected something rather cheesy—as was Jason’s typical style—waiting for him.

Instead, the sight that met Wyn’s emerald eyes was beautiful beyond description. He did not expect that his jaw would drop so dramatically, or that he would find it so difficult to breathe, or that such a powerful gasp of amazement would escape him. “Holy shit,” he whispered, breathless with wonder at the night sky. “Is that really how the night sky in New York looks like all the time?” he said.

Wyn had never once looked out of his apartment at night. He had been too busy making concoctions with which to break into Camp Half-Blood to spirit Nico away—or, barring that, the other blond, at least.

“No,” said Jason with a nonchalant shrug. Wyn blinked as he was shaken by the movement of Jason’s shoulders. A small smile played on his lips as he felt Jason’s head lean against his. He didn’t take his eyes off of the night sky and its glittering stars.

“This is the first time I’ve seen it this way, honestly,” said Jason, “it’s always been either cloudy, too bright, or too smoggy. The city lights are always on! You normally can’t even see the night sky here. Out in the countryside and over the Sound, maybe, but not here, downtown.”

Wyn frowned. From the moment that Jason said it was not the norm, he suspected that something was off. He wondered if it was the Nameless One still trying to play matchmaker with him. If it was, he certainly didn’t appreciate it.

Wyn truthfully couldn’t begin to imagine what it could be that was making the night sky so clear. Whatever the case was, he knew that it did not concern him directly. The silver fox-head medallion hung around his neck remained cool against his chest. “I wonder why that is,” said Wyn.

“I don’t know,” said Jason. Wyn felt his face warm slightly as the son of Jupiter pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And, honestly, I don’t really care. It’s just pretty to look at.” Jason looked at Wyn seriously, blue eyes boring into green. “It’s even prettier to look at with you here with me.”

Despite himself, Wyn found himself blushing furiously. He had to wonder if this was a side of Jason that many people saw. He had originally pegged Jason to be rather sincere—if slightly clueless at times. Now, though, he was having to reevaluate his position.

Needless to say, no one had ever flirted with Eirwyn Argall so openly and so sincerely. He was rather unused to all the attention. In fact, he had thought he had exerted too much of his own power over Jason, but when, after the first few days with the son of Jupiter, he had turned his aura down, Jason’s attitude hadn’t changed.

Wyn wasn’t quite sure if he liked it. Sure, he appreciated having someone to sleep next to at night, but he wasn’t supposed to get much too attached to Jason. After years of not being with Nico, he somewhat craved it.

Jason was, at least in the beginning, supposed to just be a drone that Wyn would train to be his eyes and ears in the camp. Now, though, Wyn was thoroughly charmed. He didn’t quite like _that_ part. He was afraid, well and truly afraid, of falling in love with this man.

There was already an inkling of emotion in Wyn’s heart of hearts for Jason, but he kept it well hidden. He wanted to _crush_ it, but no sooner did he look at it than it began to grow. He resolved to simply bury it with determination to get his vengeance and to get Nico back.

“So,” said Jason, smiling broadly at Wyn. Wyn had to admit that he was impressed with how much Jason’s attitude had changed. In the beginning Jason had been much too shy and afraid to say anything remotely flirty to him.

Wyn supposed that Jason had simply been afraid that if laid the charm on much too thick that Wyn would go running the other way. Wyn had made sure to show that he liked the attention. Little did he know that Jason had caught it long before, in the slight brightening of Wyn’s eyes with every sincere compliment given to him.

“Do you…” Jason leaned back against the wall of the alleyway that he and Wyn had found themselves going down. “Do you maybe want to go see a movie with me?” said Jason.

Wyn whistled and looked up at the brilliant stars once again. “Jason,” he said, gently. “It’s midnight. I don’t think that there will be any theatres open this late,” said Wyn.

“Oh. I know a place,” said Jason, with a playful wink.

“Then lead the way,” said Wyn, holding out his hand toward the opening of the alleyway. Jason grabbed his hand and pulled him onward to wherever it was that Jason wanted to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being a little late! xD. I've been doing a lot of Physics homework. :3. Anyway, the chapter is here now!
> 
> I'd like to know what you think of this chapter! A lot happened here. :3. What did you think of the interaction between Annabeth and Nyx? :3. How about the mini-date that Wyn and Jason are on? :3. Most importantly, what did you think of that tender moment that Nico and Will shared before Nico unleashed the army of the damned? :3
> 
> As per usual, leave a kudos if you like the story thus far! And leave a comment if you want to make my day! <3.


	47. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a day late, again!
> 
> I have so much work to do with university, you have noooooo idea. Hopefully the work will be dropping off after a week or two more, but I can't promise there will be a chapter next week since I've burned through my reserves already. :(.
> 
> Anyway, I'd like to know what you thought of this chapter! Have you figured out what Nyx is playing at, yet? How about Nico being a badass? What did you think of that? How about vindictive Wyn? And who do you think Jason is going to? :3.
> 
> Anywaaaaaay. :3. *cackles* Leave a kudos if you like the story so far and a comment if you want to make my day! <3.

Annabeth had to admit that the smile on Nyx’s face was beginning to become incredibly unsettling. She _still_ didn’t quite know what to make of it, other than that it was more evidence to the entirely probable fact that she was walking right into a clumsily-laid trap.

And yet, Annabeth felt absolutely powerless to do anything about her situation. Darkness encroached upon her, kept at bay by only the light that hung between her and Nyx. She couldn’t move any of her limbs. She couldn’t even make the tiniest of muscle fibres twitch. She couldn’t speak, either. What was there to do other than use her mind to play the game that was, as it stood, her only sliver of hope?

Annabeth dearly hoped that the people back at camp had noticed that she was missing. She wouldn’t wish the pain of returning to Tartarus on Percy, but some more selfish part of her wished that Percy would come as backup just in case Nyx went back on her oath on the Styx.

Annabeth just wanted to get out of Tartarus again. She wanted so badly to see what was beyond the light and the darkness that roiled at its edge, but at the same time, she felt like she shouldn’t.

The last time that Annabeth had been in the mansion of Night, she had closed her eyes because she knew that the horrors that lay in waiting were not meant for human eyes. She could only imagine in the back of her head that it would be like a place right out of the Lovecraftian mythos.

Truth be told, whatever it was that Nyx had planned for her, Annabeth so badly wanted to say that having her sanity snapped in half was a much better alternative.

“Your move,” said Nyx, her voice washing over the chessboard and Annabeth. Annabeth squinted as in the darkness, stars seemed to twinkle the moment that Nyx spoke. Her attention was called to the chessboard by the one remaining ivory knight that rose from it and moved onto a square that made Annabeth’s victory in three moves all but assured.

Annabeth focused her will and one of her two monolithic obsidian knights hovered through the air. It slammed into the side of Nyx’s knight and knocked the ivory piece over onto the board with a resounding crash. Nyx’s last knight drifted of its own will over to Annabeth’s side of the chessboard.

\----------

The last place that Wyn expected Jason to take him was a liquor store. He almost tripped over the threshold in shock. He would have pitched headfirst into the tile floor, if not for the fact that Jason was, _once again_ , fast enough to catch him.

Wyn wasn’t particularly keen on the idea that _maybe_ Jason wanted to get him drunk. He fidgeted and looked every which way while they entered the damn place. As much as he tried to convince himself that he didn’t particularly care about Jason, he wanted to protect Jason from himself.

Wyn was rather dangerous when he was drunk. He had never learned to properly control his powers and his natural aura of attractiveness and seduction. The only way he had learned was through the sheer force of his will. Drunkenness often led to him losing control of his powers.

Jason took his leave of Wyn and walked down the rows and racks of liquors. As Wyn watched, he decided that no, he didn’t want to accidentally reduce Jason to a blubbering, cock-hungry mess. He tried to tell himself it was only because Jason would be useful to him in the future, but some small part of him acknowledged the excuse as what it was, and a flimsy one at that.

Wyn walked down the aisles and looked for Jason, only to find the son of Jupiter looking at two bottles of decently good vintage white wine.

Wyn was pretty sure that the liquor store wouldn’t have anything as good as the stuff from a proper winery, but he knew the brand Jason had found, and it wasn’t _that_ bad. He walked up behind Jason and looked over at the price-tags of the bottles.

Wyn nearly had an aneurysm at the sight. “Good gods,” said Wyn, startling Jason enough that the son of Jupiter nearly dropped one of the bottles. “This is a highway robbery!” he exclaimed. The not-even-that-good wine was ridiculously overpriced for its vintage.

Jason shrugged. “Which one do you think I should get?” said Jason. “I can’t decide…”

“I would say put down the overpriced wine and get something else,” said Wyn with a disapproving glare at the bottles in Jason’s hands. Jason shook his head, no. “Well, if money isn’t a problem, then why not just get both?”

“Oh!” said Jason, blinking as though he hadn’t even pondered the idea. “I wonder if that’s any good though… Oh well. I guess the more the merrier!” He turned around and kissed Wyn on the forehead before the Welshman could do anything about it and sauntered off to pay for his wine.

Wyn was left standing in the middle of the aisle, a few trembling fingers touching the still-warm spot on his forehead where Jason had kissed him. Had he known that Jason would be so touchy-feely, he might have never tried to lure the son of Jupiter in.

There was a fluttering in Wyn’s stomach, and he staunchly refused to let it get to him. He didn’t _want_ to be in love with this guy. Jason was nice enough, but his heart belonged to Nico, and Nico belonged to him. Jason was just a means to an end. Someone he could act in love with just to keep up appearances.

The problem was, as far as Wyn was concerned, was that the line between his acting and reality was beginning to blur. He wanted to distance himself from Jason to give himself some time to get over the feelings brewing within him, but he couldn’t afford such a delay in his plans.

Wyn walked up to the counter and wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist. “Where did you get that kind of money?” he whispered, as Jason picked up the bags that the clerk had put the wine bottles in.

Wyn looked over Jason’s shoulder just in time to see Jason pay for the wine with a faintly-glittering golden credit card. He had never seen the like before. He suspected it was the work of the gods.

Wyn looked up from the cashier and saw that the man behind the counter was looking at the both of them with a derisive sneer. On the wall opposite was a Jesus-poster that likely came from the Westboro Baptist Church. Right under the sacred heart with its thorns and its tongue of flame was an upside down pink triangle surrounded by a red circle and covered by a red bar that ran through the centre of the circle.

The guy pulled out a crucifix affixed to a golden chain around his neck and puffed out his chest. He said under his breath, disapprovingly, “fags.”

Jason looked up at the guy and hurriedly grabbed the two bottles of wine from the counter. He tried to pull Wyn away, but Wyn wouldn’t budge. There was a dangerous glint to Wyn’s eyes. He stood at the counter, unmoving, jaw set with seething rage.

Before Jason could do anything to stop him, Wyn leaned over the countertop. He grabbed the cashier by the collar and pulled the man close enough that their noses were almost touching. “Get your dirty hands off of me, you filthy faggot,” said the man, growling his hate in Wyn’s face.

As far as Wyn was concerned, what the man just did was about the worst thing that he could do. Others might have had a moral quandary about what Wyn wanted to do to the man, but the Welshman had no such qualms. He looked at the man and decided that the guy was decently young and attractive and would have no problems picking up guys if he wanted to.

Not that Wyn would give the man any choice in the matter.

“Oh,” said Wyn, his green eyes boring into the grey eyes of the man behind the counter. “I’m the fag?” he said, as the man’s face went slack. He pressed his lips against the guy’s and smirked as the man’s body convulsed and a moan of rapturous pleasure escaped the homophobe.

“Explain that, then,” said Wyn, after wiping his lips. He pointed at the man’s crotch before shoving him hard enough that he hit the back wall.

The man looked down at his groin with shock. Wyn was sure that even Jason could see the rapidly-growing wet spot and the outline of a thick cock straining against the fabric. “What have you done to me?” said the man in horror as he tried to cover his crotch.

All the man managed to do was graze his cock. An involuntary moan escaped him as the Jesus poster on the back wall began to peel off from the force of the man’s impact against it.

“Not as straight as you think, after all,” said Wyn with a smirk. The man slid down the wall, staring dumbly ahead. “Think of me tonight,” said Wyn, blowing a sarcastic kiss at the once-homophobe that he had just basically rewired to want only the company of men.

Wyn turned away and scowled, just catching himself on Jason as his knees gave way from under him.

“What the fuck was that?” said Jason, looking back at the cashier who was staring dumbly at his hard cock. The man had fished it from his pants and was beginning to stroke it. “What did you do to him?”

“I don’t know,” said Wyn, panting. The exertion had left him breathless and without an ounce of strength in his limbs. “I don’t know. I just… I couldn’t handle the way that he looked at me with so much hate. I don’t know what I did,” he said, feigning ignorance. “It’s just always been this way.”

“Maybe you’re a…” Jason looked back at the man sitting on the floor. The cashier was openly moaning, now. “We’ll talk about it some other time.” Wyn could tell that the events had clearly perturbed Jason. “Maybe I should go…”

“You said we were going to see a movie,” said Wyn softly once the two of them had left the liquor store. “I still want to go see it. Do you really have to go?” Wyn looked down at the bottles of wine still firmly held in Jason’s hand. “Although I hope you don’t plan to get me hammered. I’m not too good a drunk.”

“Oh,” said Jason, a strange look of guilt suddenly appearing on his face. He stopped in his tracks and tilted his head at Wyn. “These…” Jason raised the two bottles he was carrying. “These weren’t for you.”

“I didn’t…” Jason looked rather disappointed in himself, and Wyn, despite himself, found it somewhat endearing. “I didn’t realize you might want some. Do you?” he said. “The place I know where we could watch the movie. It’s… uh… _run_ by a guy that _really_ likes alcohol and I was planning on using this to bribe him to let us in.”

Jason scratched the back of his head and looked sheepishly at Wyn. “Maybe that guy in there is done by now. I can go back in and get us another bottle…”

Wyn shook his head. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, too. Jason had, for a moment there, looked so afraid that he had done something to disappoint Wyn. “No, Jace,” he said. “I don’t want to get drunk. I told you, I’m not very good when I’m hammered! Anyway, where _is_ this place you keep talking about? And how can this guy you know keep his job if he _really_ likes to be drunk?

“Trust me,” said Jason, with an adorable little smirk on the corners of his lips. “He’s _much_ easier to deal with when he’s drunk. Otherwise he’s just a sourpuss. Being drunk is _probably_ how he kept his job, actually,” said Jason, just barely able to suppress a snicker.

\----------

An uneasy silence descended upon the unnatural forest. Twenty paces ahead of Will, he saw Percy tense. Everything seemed to go in slow-motion after that. He could feel the hush that swept across the demigods behind him. He could also see the look of alarm that blossomed on Clarisse’s face once she heard the loud bellow that shattered the quiet of the night.

Twigs cracked and the sound of whole trees falling to the ground with resounding booms echoed in the distance. Whatever sort of monster it was charging toward the demigods, Will was sure it was a massive one.

Will ushered Piper back. He turned to face Percy, his eyes growing wide with surprise as he spotted two massive minotaurs that were charging through the woods toward Percy and Clarisse.

Will took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Percy!” he shouted, “Get back! Now!”

In a split second, all hell broke loose, and the demigods behind Will leaped into action. All but three—the Stoll brothers, and Piper, vanished into the trees to try and intercept the charging bulls.

The minotaurs were much faster than anyone had expected. Percy turned to face Will, wasting precious seconds that could have meant the difference between life or death. “What?” said Percy, mere moments before the minotaur erupted from the trees beside him and sent him hurtling into a nearby tree-trunk.

Clarisse would have gone to help the son of Poseidon if not for the second minotaur coming up behind her. She was only _just_ able to bring up the half to her electrified spear to block the swing of the massive, wicked-looking two-handed greataxe that the monster wielded.

“Percy!” gasped Piper, drawing the sword that had been belted to her hip unsteadily. She fumbled, for a moment, having forgotten that she had powerful charmspeak at her disposal. “ _Stop!_ ” she yelled, the charmspeak washing over everyone present in the clearing. The minotaurs shivered for a moment, but continued with their assault.

Will, too, shook off the compulsion. With a grimace, he made the ivory-and-gold rod that he held in his hand extend to its full length. Light streamed down the length of his arm as the rod became a quarterstaff. He broke into a run as soon as he saw the minotaur raise its arms behind its head, muscles bulging with power.

The minotaur swung the two-handed greataxe downward. Will cried out with frustration. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try. He launched himself forward and swung the staff around in an arc just as he was hitting the ground.

The very tip of the Imperial Gold haft struck the edge of the greataxe. The quarterstaff rang with the clarity of a struck bronze bell. Where the two weapons met, a single spark of light came to life and expanded into a shock wave that washed over the entire clearing.

The minotaur dropped its axe and covered its ears in an attempt to get away from the sound. It was a momentary victory, Will could tell. He could already hear the grunts and roars of all manner of monsters charging in their direction.

\----------

Nico quickly found himself in a zen-like state as he cleft his way through the throng of enemies that stood before him. All the ones that had streamed from the gate of the Palace of Nyx were, at the moment, vaguely humanoid.

Nico stabbed Anathema into the chest of one of the creatures. Its flesh was as black as the night sky that stretched above Nico, and under that dark skin was a field of stars that glittered as prettily as those in the heavens. Nico wasn’t deceived by the sight, though. These creatures had a singular purpose—the death of all demigods.

Nico didn’t particularly care about _these_ creatures. Killing them off in swathes was child’s play. These creatures were the _least_ of Nyx’s minions, and he knew very well that his army of the dead and the Welsh minor gods and demigods  that followed behind it would make quick work of the mindless horde.

Anathema hummed with power in Nico’s hands. The blade sliced through the pitch-black bodies of his foes with ease—like a hot knife through butter. The creatures dissolved into twinkling starlight long before they ever sank to the ground dead.

Wherever Anathema’s blade was not enough, black light and a horrid deep groan emanated from the blade. The beams of black light needed not to cut through the creatures of night. A mere graze was all it took, and the smallest of them shimmered iridescent for but a moment before dissolving into starlight.

Standing at the head of his advancing army of the dead, Nico was cutting a clear swathe through the milling throng of bodies that blocked his path to the gates of the palace. What chance did these minor minions stand against the combined might of the son of Hades and his weapon, Anathema?

For every man in Nico’s army of the dead that fell and rose again, twenty of the minions of Nyx dispersed into the nothing that they had been made from. The blade of Anathema cut through the horde one moment, and then a beam of black light the next.

The first part of the battle was fierce, but it was quick. The Welsh demigods had finally joined the back-lines of Nico’s army of the dead, and word from one of the runners told Nico that there had only been one casualty thus far and even then, Arawn was already working on bringing the demigod hero back to life.

In the moment of peace that followed the grinding open of the palace gates, Nico allowed himself a few heartbeats of rest. His mind wandered to other things, and he found himself wondering how it was that Arawn got away with so flagrantly violating the laws of life and death.

Nico knew without a doubt that his father would, at best, balk at the idea. At worst, Nico suspected Hades would be indescribably angry. Nico grimaced. He was pretty sure his father and Arawn would _never_ get along.

Whatever the case was in reality, it was all irrelevant. It was not like the two gods could even stand to be in the other’s presence at the moment anyway. The Nameless One was still maintaining the barrier between the two pantheons.

Finally, the second wave of Nyx’s forces came upon the gathered gods and demigods. Nico sent his army of the dead to either side of the main force. The Welsh might be gods and demigods together, but that did not mean that they would not be vulnerable to a rout. The dead were dead and didn’t particularly care if they got flanked.

The ground shook as finally, the first of the _real_ challengers lumbered out from between the palace gates. Two, three times as tall as minotaurs but with similar features and proportions, these monsters truly were intimidating.

Like the smaller beasts, these ones had skin as deep as the blackness of night, but their eyes were simply discs as bright as moonlight. The horns that adorned their heads were wickedly sharp and could easily gore anything that wasn’t paying attention. The horns were rather easy to miss under the cover of night or darkness—the only times the beasts ever came out onto the battlefield.

In each of the four hands that the monsters possessed, they carried cutlasses that were each easily half as big as Nico was tall. For all their mass, though, the monstrosities were surely slow. They needed the support of the army of underlings that swarmed around them to do any significant damage.

Nico was the first to come upon one of the beasts, and thankfully, the Welsh heroes behind him were wise enough to dodge out of the way as soon as he did.

Just as Nico spun around to cleave through the minions that swarmed him, one of the massive starry cutlasses slammed into the ground right next to him. With another swipe of Anathema and a quick dodge to the side, Nico evaded the second. The third and fourth blades came down on either side of Nico, but he managed to move just enough to squeeze between them.

With inhuman agility, Nico leaped onto the two broad blades that were to his right. He used the monster’s confused attempt to get him off of the weapons to catapult him forward at the monster.

As Nico sailed through the air, he held Anathema out in front of him, its point directed right at the heart of the monstrosity that he faced. The beast tried to lower its horns to gore Nico, but his trajectory was much too low, and the creature’s neck too thick, for the motion to do much of anything.

Nico grinned as, with a sickening crunch, Anathema pierced right through the beast’s obsidian ribs and pierced its heart of starlight. Cracks spiderwebbed across the monster’s pitch-black skin and began to bleed pure starlight. Pushing himself off of the creature’s chest with his feet, Nico propelled himself away from the explosion of starlight that erupted from the beast.

Nico landed in the middle of a ring of Welsh demigods. He rolled into a kneeling position as the demigods took up a defensive ring around him. As he gathered his wits and his bearings, the Welsh men and women fought to keep him safe.

Nico shook his head and rose from the ground when he had warded off the disorientation he’d experienced as a direct result of the blast. When he got back to his feet, he saw that there were three more beasts like the first one that were making their way toward the bulk of his forces.

The circle of Welsh demigods parted as thanks were given and Nico returned to the thick of battle. Perhaps it was only Nico that could take the beasts down with a singular blow, but the Welsh heroes were more than capable.

Minutes later, when the first of the three other beasts came within range of the archers at the heart of the army, they were peppered with arrows laced with all sorts of weapons before it could even come anywhere near the front line.

The beast inevitably collapsed, and when it did, the Welsh demigods armed with only spears and swords cut through the minions that protected the beast. They swarmed the beast and kept it down until it eventually died and returned to the nothing that Nyx had created it from.

The same happened to the last two monsters, and Nico found himself rather pleased with all that had transpired thus far. It wasn’t until moments later that he looked up and noticed that the sky itself seemed as though it was roiling. Stars that shouldn’t have been moving were whirling around each other, vanishing and reappearing every now and again.

The first Seeker that descended from the vast cloud of them took a dive at Nico’s head, and he only _just_ managed to get Anathema up in time to cleave it in twain. He only _just_ managed to save himself from the razor-sharp blades that the Seekers had for wings.

“Seekers!” Nico yelled over the din of battle. He dearly hoped that he would be heard in time just as the roiling mass of seekers from overhead began to descend. The battle wasn’t even near done. What looked to be hoplites armed with spears and shields were streaming from the open gates of the palace.

Thankfully, the nearest mages to Nico called up their barriers in time to stop the onslaught of the Seekers. Nico fed his drakonskin cloak some of his blood, and the dark aura that it began to emanated shielded him from a great many of the Seekers. He still had to cut down the brave few that made it through, though.

Barriers, domes of protection, wreaths of fire, and halos of caustic light popped up all over the battlefield. Each barrier protected a small portion of the Welsh force as they made their way, slowly, to the open gates of the palace.

Where there were mages preoccupied with helping the demigods, however, the Seekers were _destructive_. The bird-like creatures dive-bombed the woefully unprepared contingents and left a swath of gore and death behind.

None of the gods and demigods would be down for very long. Nico was sure that Arawn was hard at work rebuilding the army, but he was also aware that whatever forces that Arawn managed to get back together would not be there in time for the climax of the battle for the palace.

Nico could only hope that he and his forces would make it to a much more easily defensible position before they lost too much more. In the meantime, NIco decided that he would put the bodies of the fallen to good use. “Emrys!” he called out, just as he spun Anathema to cut down a large section of the milling Seekers.

Nico searched the army behind him. “Emrys!” he called out again as he cut down one of the minor creatures stupid enough to come up to him. He feared for the worst until he saw a flash of orange-red fire and the tell-tale sleek golden-furred body of the son of the Y Ddraig Goch and the Oak King.

“I need your help,” said Nico, “Throw up the best barrier you’ve got, please,” he said, when the dragon-shifting mage finally arrived at his side.

The draconic Welshman nodded silently and breathed a fine mist upon the earth under Nico’s feet. All around them, the thick trunks of oak trees rose from the ground and surrounded them. The trunks were thick enough and dense enough that no creatures could get through them.

High above, the magically infused boughs of the oak trees wound together to create a thick trellis that warded away the seekers that were trying their best to get to Nico. “Thank you,” said Nico, affectionately ruffling Emrys’ lush mane. The dragon-mage was much younger than him, but quite powerful in his craft.

“I hope your friends don’t mind that I am bringing their bodies back for the moment,” said Nico. Emrys rolled his eyes and snorted. Nico had done it enough times that everyone was used to it by now. Still, it made Nico feel better to ask for permission.

Nico raised Anathema and stabbed it into the ground. Cracks began to fan out from the point where Anathema struck the earth. The spiderweb-like cracks glowed with black light and spread beyond the grove of oak trees. The black light entered the bodies of the slain and imparted on them a single purpose: _kill the enemy_.

Swords and axes and staves were raised by bleeding arms against the still-milling swarm of Seekers. The fallen gods and demigods joined Nico’s army of the dead and fought valiantly against the hordes of Night that threatened to overwhelm them all.

Nico wrenched Anathema from the dirt and nodded at Emrys. The grove of oak trees around them withered to dust.

With a mighty roar that shook across the battlefield and rallied the remaining Welsh heroes, Emrys opened his maw and let loose the dragonfire that burned in his belly.

The golden fur that lined the underside of Emrys’ throat began to glow as liquid heat billowed up his throat from the depths of his stomach. The fire that leaped from Emrys’ maw was caught up in a rapidly-spinning disk that warded away the Seekers that were stupid enough to try and attack him and Nico.


	48. Checkmate

Wyn felt a chill down the length of his spine. The last of the credits of the stupid film had just rolled up the massive screen. He had never been in a theatre so large. It was far bigger than any he had ever seen back home.

Wyn craned his neck in Jason’s direction and saw a pair of bright blue eyes and a way-too-sunny grin aimed in his direction. He had to resist the urge to reach up and stroke one of the corners of Jason’s lips—the part that, he had been told, was scarred because of a stapler-related incident.

Wyn jolted backward. He nearly fell over the other armrest of his seat in disgust. He wasn’t so much disgusted at the way that Jason was looking at him, but the way that he had just reacted to seeing that expression.

Wyn hadn’t even realized that he had been practically clinging to Jason from the moment that the first jump scared had popped up on the screen up until just a few moments ago. He nursed the side of him that had hit the arm-rest a little bit too hard. He knew it would bruise, but apart from the throbbing pain, it was alright.

Wyn took a deep breath and righted himself on his seat. He looked at Jason and saw a concerned look aimed at him. He pointedly looked away and leaned into his chair—sank into it, even. He struggled to even out his breathing, and he would have drifted off if Jason’s gentle fingers on his shoulder hadn’t brought him back to wakefulness.

Wyn mustered his courage and his resolved. He looked up at Jason with an apologetic look that wasn’t entirely false. Neither of them spoke, but it seemed that neither of them needed to. The silence was not awkward, but it was certainly tender. Jason’s fingers were comforting on Wyn’s shoulder, but they certainly didn’t help Wyn’s inward struggle against the fluttering that was in the pit of his stomach.

This wasn’t right, Wyn thought. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the child of Eros, the god of _love_. _He_ should have been the one in control of his own emotions, not the one slowly falling head over heels in love with someone he had only just met. It was quickly becoming apparent to Wyn that the control he’d thought he had had all his life was just an illusion.

The silence between Wyn and Jason stretched until it almost felt uncomfortable. Wyn shifted in his seat, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Jason’s. They seemed to _gravitate_ toward each other, lips drifting ever closer together. Wyn was torn. He wanted to do it. Lean in for a kiss. But he couldn’t. His emotions were a raging, whirling tempest that he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

With a colossal effort that he was thankful didn’t lead to a loud grunt, Wyn pushed himself away from Jason. He crowded himself into a corner of his seat, as far away from the son of Jupiter as he could.

Wyn couldn’t help but glance briefly at Jason, only to immediately regret it. The hurt in those beautiful azure eyes was a piercing dagger in his chest.

Wyn averted his gaze and sighed inwardly. He had the sneaking suspicion that this was all just a game and that the had played right into the Nameless One’s trap. He couldn’t find a way out of it, as much as he liked to think that he was actually a _player_ in the game, and not just a _pawn_.

Once again, Wyn felt tender and tentative fingers on his shoulder. He looked up and saw that Jason was standing in front of him, broad shoulders blocking out much of the screen in front of the theatre. “Sorry,” Wyn grumbled, as he sat back in his seat with a sigh. He was trying his best to look at everything that was decidedly _not_ Jason.

“It’s alright,” said Jason, voice low and with a slight tremor to it. “I understand,” he said. Wyn could tell Jason was trying not to sound hurt, but Wyn  could hear it clearly in Jason’s voice.

Wyn tried to shut out the sigh that followed, but it struck him right to the bone. It was difficult to hear. He didn’t exactly know what it was, but it just _was_. “I know someone who’s going through the same thing, I think,” said Jason.

Wyn looked up, head shooting up so fast he almost thought it was going to fly right off of his shoulders. His face, though, fell at the look on Jason’s. “I don’t actually know what’s going on with him, but…” Jason sighed. “I’ve seen it enough times in the mirror. I think he’s heartbroken one way or another.”

Tears prickled at the corners of Wyn’s eyes. He wanted to deny it, but deep inside, he knew that Jason was talking about Nico. “It’s okay,” said Jason, with a self-deprecating laugh. “I seem to attract people that I just can’t have.”

It was like the dagger in Wyn’s chest was being twisted by Jason’s every word. He was surprised he wasn’t writhing in pain yet. He definitely _wanted_ to be, but whatever scraps remained of his proud, conniving self would not let him.

As stupid as the movie had been, it, and what had followed it, had left Wyn feeling rather raw and vulnerable. He hadn’t expected it, but he suspected that it wasn’t a coincidence. He pulled away from Jason. Retreated. As much as it pained him to let Jason think that he was just being used as a rebound, he didn’t even _want_ to acknowledge the possibility that he wasn’t just using Jason as a rebound.

The tears fell from Wyn’s eyes unexpectedly. The streaks were hot against his cheeks, and he had to fold over his knees to hide it. He squeezed his eyes closed, but the tears still came. He clutched his ankles and bit his cheek to stifle the sobs that threatened to spill from him.

The realization was a difficult one. If he hadn’t known before, Wyn certainly knew now. He was three years too late. He had lost. It wasn’t even a matter of playing the Nameless One’s game anymore. He had been taken out of it _years_ ago, when Nico had been rescued from his apartment, _somehow_.

Wyn could only think of one reason that Nico would be heartbroken now that he had been returned to his precious camp. Wyn was convinced that Nico now knew about the three months that they had spent together. The _truth_ of those three months.

It was so painfully obvious that Wyn could almost hear the Nameless One’s laughter ringing in his ears. Nico probably hated him now and that, more than anything, _hurt_.

The whole time, Jason’s hand on Wyn’s shoulder was a warm, steadying, but ultimately not-so-welcome comfort. He _loathed_ the solace that he found in Jason’s companionship. He felt like his heart—which he should have been a master of—was pulling him in a direction that he didn’t want to go and that he was powerless to stop it.

It took the better part of half an hour for Wyn to finally regain his composure. The moment that he did, he stiffly shrugged Jason’s hand off of his shoulder.

Wyn had to admit that he _still_ wanted Nico. He _still_ wanted to see the son of Hades again. He _still_ wanted to feel Nico’s surprisingly-innocent heartbeat under his fingertips. Those soft lips against his. His fingers in that unruly but silken dark hair.

All the same, Wyn knew that nothing would ever be the same thanks to the meddling of one person. The sorrow in his heart sharpened into something more _dangerous_. The dark seed of hatred grew into a twisted and thorny bramble that wound around his chest and made him _bleed_. Grief curdled into loathing and an anger that _burned_.

Wyn did not hold anything against Nico. He didn’t think he ever could. He could not forgive Will for the state that Nico had been when he had found Nico, but the son of Apollo was irrelevant now. Wyn knew the truth. They were all pawns in one person’s game—the one person that Wyn hated more than anyone else.

Had it not been for the Nameless One’s meddling, Wyn would have had the right person in his grasp, not Jason Grace. He would have been exacting his vengeance, not falling in love. Nico would never have realized the truth. Nico would have come back to him eagerly.

Without the Nameless One’s intervention, Wyn was sure that he would have been able to take Nico away from this damned place. He would have _destroyed_ the boy that had broken Nico’s heart all those years ago.

Wyn’s fingers balled into tight fists to either side of his body. His knuckles turned white from the viciousness of his grip. His entire body had gone numb save for the seething fire in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t even register that Jason had pulled him, gently, up onto his feet.

Wyn was shaken from his stupor by the sound of Jason’s voice. “It’s time to go,” Jason said, a hand on Wyn’s back. As much as Wyn wanted to say that he hated it, he actually appreciated the way that Jason was rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles. “We can’t stay here all night, Wyn.”

Truth be told, Wyn would not have minded having a place to stay for the night that wasn’t just his drab room in the city. Nevertheless, he did not think it would be too wise to sleep at a movie theatre, especially under the rather sketchy pretences that they had gotten inside to begin with.

Jason gently pushed Wyn forward as an awkward silence descended upon them. Jason guided him to the door and held it open for him just as the plump patron of this particular place came into view with a knowing smile. “Here, Mr. D.,” said Jason, handing the strange man the second bottle of wine.

Wyn figured that the man was Dionysus. There was only one person that could be bribed with alcohol that he knew of, after all. Wyn needed some time alone from Jason. “I need to go to the washroom,” he said. “I’ll see you outside.”

\----------

When Wyn was out of earshot, Jason turned to Dionysus. “I’m glad you managed to break Zeus’ curse, Mr. D,” said Jason with a hopeful look at the camp director. He had been hoping to get on Dionysus’ good side for a while now, and only recently had he made any headway at all.

“It wasn’t me,” said Dionysus, holding up the bottle of cheap wine that Jason had practically thrust into his hands. It wasn’t the best vintage, and he certainly wouldn’t be caught dead drinking it. He would rather have drunk from the Phlegethon. Nevertheless, it was the thought that counted, especially from someone that didn’t have a knack, whatsoever, for proper bribery. “You could thank Neil’s odd friend for this, Janice.”

“Nico?” said Jason, just to make sure. He was used to Dionysus purposefully messing names up, but that also meant he couldn’t quite be certain who Dionysus was pertaining to most of the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dionysus. “I owe a lot to Nero.” Dionysus flashed a smirk at Jason, but the Jason just rolled his eyes. It hadn’t actually crossed his mind that he and Dionysus—well, Bacchus—were actually half-brothers.

“Have you figured it out yet?” said Dionysus, expression thoughtful as he looked in the direction that Wyn had gone. “That one’s more than you might think, looking at him.”

Jason let his gaze follow Dionysus’ and saw Wyn leaving the theatre to stand in the cool night air outside. “He definitely is,” he said, more than a little bit dreamily. There was a small smile on Dionysus’ lips when he turned back. “Please don’t say anything about tonight to the others,” he begged.

Dionysus laughed, the sound earthy and solid. It was almost as though the laugh came from his belly. “Go on and get ‘im,” said Dionysus, clapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder so hard that Jason pitched forward and nearly planted his face in the cinema’s carpeted floor. “I’m not a tattletale,” he said.

Jason smiled at Dionysus and took off on a jog toward the exit. “Thanks, Mr. D,” said Jason.

“Don’t mention it, Jethro,” said Dionysus. The moment that Jason slipped out of the theatre, Dionysus turned to his side, hand shooting out with inhuman speed. The glamour dissolved and Eros clawed at the fingers wrapped around his throat, wings flapping with distress. “You better have good reason for being here, Eros,” said Dionysus. “I told the boy I wasn’t a tattletale.”

“I’m not here for Jason Grace,” Eros gasped when Dionysus finally let him go. A couple of feathers had fallen from his wings. “I’m here for the other one. He’s my son. Eirwyn Argall.”

\----------

Will was _quite_ astounded when he realized that he had a grin on his face. He had been matching the minotaur blow for blow and he was beginning to understand why it was that Nico found some thrill in the heat of battle.

Will could feel that he was starting to get tired. His arms were getting heavier. His legs were moving slower. However, his keen medical knowledge told him that weariness was also weighing down on the minotaur that faced him. He could tell that the beast’s breathing was heavy, and that there was a slowness to the way that the creature blinked that no one but him could have possibly caught.

Will grinned triumphantly. He knew that he was moments away from victory. However, the brief moment of arrogance that he allowed himself to experience lowered his guard for but a heartbeat. It was all enough to turn the tide.

The minotaur parried his staff and then went in for the kill, its axe screaming through the air to hew him in half from his left shoulder to his right hip.

The blow that Will saw, but was too slow to respond to, never actually arrived. A mass of living, writhing shadows materialized in the air between him and the minotaur’s axe. A moment passed, and immediately afterward, the shadows pushed the weapon away. Will got his opening to counter-attack.

\----------

Nico roared in discomfort. A ripping pain tore through his left shoulder, and he pitched sideways because of it. He only narrowly avoided the seeker that soared through the spot that he had been standing in mere moments earlier.

Emrys grunted at the impact with concern, but Nico hushed him. “It’s alright,” said Nico, “This just means that everything is working to plan.”

Nico turned his eyes up to the highest tower of Nyx’s palace. He withdrew a medal from the folds of his drakonskin cloak. It was made of gold and it fit snugly around Emrys’ neck. “I relinquish command to you for now,” he said.

“I am sorry about this, old friend,” said Nico. “This needs to end soon,” he said. Nico swept his cloak about himself and vanished into the night.

\----------

Will, frankly, had no idea what the fuck it was that he was doing. He swept his quarterstaff toward the minotaur. The momentum was such that he couldn’t stop, even when he wanted to. Even when a sickly green bolt of light shot up his arm and down the length of the quarterstaff.

The green light, coruscating with whites and grays and black, formed into an iridescent sphere at the tip of Will’s quarterstaff. When the weapon struck the minotaur’s side, the beast first grunted in pain. A brief flash surrounded the minotaur’s body, and then the minotaur groaned in profound discomfort.

Will thought that the minotaur was about to gore him with the formidable horns that stretched from its head when it pitched forward. Only, it didn’t. He barely had time to jump back when all of a sudden, the beast began to retch all over the forest floor. Chunks of meat in a slurry of vomit splattered onto the ground.

Will was looking in shock at the minotaur when he felt strong fingers clasp around his shoulder. He nearly beheaded Reyna. Well, he liked to think that he nearly did.

The praetor, though, was much more battle-hardened than Will was and parried the quarterstaff with martial poise and ease. Reyna’s two greyhounds growled at Will, but she only tightened her fingers on Will’s shoulder and said, “Stand down.”

Reyna winked at Will. He wasn’t sure if he was just hallucinating but he thought he saw a twinkle of pride in her eyes. “He is just afraid,” she said. Will wasn’t so sure he was awake anymore. Between the minotaur on the ground that was throwing up uncomfortably close to his feet, and the look of pride in Reyna’s eyes, he was positively convinced he was still asleep in his apartment. Heck, Nico was probably right next door, probably having a nightmare, and probably about to wake Will up with his screaming. Will didn’t wake up.

Will tried to even out his breathing. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, and his heartbeat was thundering in his ear. It was nearly deafening, but as the pumping of his heart began to slow, he heard the sounds of battle all around the forest.

“There is something strange going on here,” said Reyna, her fingers on Will’s shoulder moving down to grasp his arm. Will knew that was going to sting in the morning. He wasn’t so sure that Reyna knew her strength very well. That, or she wasn’t entirely aware how fragile he was. Relatively speaking. “The monsters are not dying like normal, and none of them seem to be wanting to go for the kill.”

Will blinked at Reyna and jerked his head back in the direction of the minotaur behind him. “This guy,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, “ _tried_ to kill me.”

The minotaur grunted as though offended as it staggered to its feet. It wiped its spittle away from the corner of its lip with the back of one of its very furry forearms. Before either demigod could do anything other than gawk at it, though, it pitched over into its own vomit and started retching all over again.

“What the fuck did you do to that thing?” said Reyna, a hint of wonder in her voice. She pulled Will out of the unfortunate burst of projectile puke in their direction. “I have never seen a minotaur get tired that quickly… and I would much rather have not seen a minotaur throwing up its breakfast. On top of apparently losing its last lunch _and_ dinner.”

“I have no ide—” Will cut himself off when he heard it. Even the greyhounds seemed to notice. They immediately started growling. The ground trembled underneath his feet. Rhythmically. “Oh that _can’t_ be good,” said Will.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._ “Footsteps,” said Reyna, swinging Will behind her and extended her pilum before taking on a more defensive stance. Will, to his credit, tried to take on one as well. Aurum and Argentum flanked Reyna and began to bark in the direction of the loud footsteps.

A massive creature burst through the foliage. It towered over Reyna and Will by a few feet, although it seemed to cast a shadow dozens of feet even longer than that. “Is that a giant?” Will whispered over Reyna’s shoulder. He was trembling with newfound fear. “I thought Percy and the others killed all of them.”

“They did,” said Reyna. “But I think that _is_ a giant.” It was impossible that a giant yet lived, at least from Gaea’s cohort. That wasn’t important at the moment, though.

Will could tell that this giant was looking increasingly agitated because of the minotaur that was _still_ retching behind them. He saw Reyna stiffen, as though hit by a realization. “Stop!” she yelled, just as the giant seemed like it was about to attack. The Maeonian Drakon crashed through the trees just as Reyna whispered the one word that probably saved Will’s life and hers. “Damasen!”

\----------

“You have finally arrived,” said Arachne, drawing herself up from the throne that she had constructed for herself out of golden silks and pearls. Nico was sure she didn’t notice how out of place it seemed in the palace of Night, surrounded as it was by black night sky and glittering stars. It was like a gilded sore thumb, pretty, but still painful to look at.

“I have,” said Nico, with a smile equally as terrifying as the one that was on Arachne’s face. “I wouldn’t be so confident, though,” said Nico. He whirled Anathema through the air around him and relished the sound of millions of tiny screeches rose around the two of them.

Arachne might have become beautiful by the blessing of Nyx, but she still held on to her old domain. The one that Athena had cursed her with. Nico had expected every inch of the damn place to be covered with all sorts of venomous spiders, but he had his ways of levelling the playing field.

Arachne looked around, eyes wide with shock as the millions of her little minions, whose skittering she had relished mere moments ago, became quiet. She could feel them all crumble to dust under cold, invisible dragonfire. “You are not the only one with friends in high places, might I remind you,” said Nico with a smile.

Nico levelled Anathema at Arachne. His eyes were filled with conviction. “Surrender to me now and I will spare you,” said Nico, sincerely. “End this madness and I swear upon the River Styx that I will let you walk free to do whatever it is that you want to do. Just end this. Here and now.”

Arachne shook her head and laughed. Her slender fingers dipped into her robes. “You know very well, son of Hades, that those oaths don’t work anymore. Arachne drew her weapon, a foil of glittering starlight.

Nico barely had enough time to raise Anathema into the path of the golden foil that had somehow materialized from the depths of Arachne’s gown. Stygian iron reforged with Welsh dragonfire screamed against Stellar Gold. Sparks of black and yellow showered the two combatants.

\----------

“How is it that you know of me, little demigod?” Damasen boomed. The giant tilted his head in curiosity at the regally dressed girl in front of him—and the rather fearful-looking son of Apollo behind her. “One would think that the world has forgotten me,” he said.

Reyna straightened, calling all the authority that she could muster around her. “I am Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano. Praetor of New Rome and the Twelfth Legion fulminata.” She looked Damasen in the eye, a feat few other demigods would have been brave enough to do. Will felt rather nervous about the whole ordeal.

“There is only one giant that could have possibly survived the war with Gaea,” she said. “Percy thought you were dead, but they couldn’t be sure. You were the only one whose whereabouts was unknown in the end.”

Damasen laughed, the sound deep and booming. Will felt as though he was being rattled by the sheer bass of it. His eyes widened as another large entity emerged from the depths of the forest, head wreathed with unruly silver hair around the head. It was Iapetus.

Damasen walked over to his drakon, his every footstep shaking the earth itself and making Will jump. Damasen rubbed the creature under its chin, and it summarily flopped over onto its back, legs splaying every which way. It playfully breathed fire in Damasen’s face, but the giant did not look fazed in the least.

Damasen patted the Drakon’s side before rising again to his feet. He bellowed a command to the night sky, and immediately, the sounds of combat in the forest came to a screeching halt. “What is it that you demigods are doing her—Perseus!” Damasen’s thoughts came to a grinding stop when he saw the son of Poseidon slumped unconscious against a nearby tree-trunk.

Before Damasen could get to Percy, Iapetus had already made his way there. The titan cradled the demigod in his arms, though the look of concern on his face did not bode particularly well. “He lives,” said Iapetus, expression grim. “He is hurt, but I am certain that you can help him,” he said, eyes boring into Damasen’s own.

Damasen walked up to the two and shook his head. He looked down at Percy and sighed. “You certainly like being taken to the edge of death, do you not, old friend?” he said to Percy. Thankfully, Percy was in no state to hear what it was that was being said to him.

Will watched with growing apprehension as Damasen’s thick fingers brushed aside a lock of stray hair that hung over Percy’s forehead. A soft reddish light flowed from the palm of Damasen’s massive hand, wrapping Percy and seemingly rousing him from his unwilling slumber.

Percy’s eyes fluttered open, but the moment that they did, he jolted with surprise. His body went rigid in Iapetus’ arms as he stared at the titan he had thought long-dead. “Am _I_ dead?” he thought out loud, the words coming out ever so slightly slurred as though he had had too much to drink.

From where Will was standing, it looked like Perseus was going to fly any moment from Iapetus’ arms just by the sheer force of the titan’s laughter.

Thoroughly shaken by Iapetus’ mirth, Percy patted the titan’s cheek weakly. “I said hi to the stars for you two,” he managed, with a sincere, if slightly delirious smile playing on his lips. Tears came to Damasen and Iapetus’ eyes.

“Apologies, Perseus,” said Iapetus, the words sending tremors through Percy’s body as he was lowered to the ground. Iapetus gently placed Percy against the same tree-trunk he’d been knocked unconscious against. Percy tried his best to sit up, but at best managed to slide halfway down the trunk.

“I should have sent word earlier that Damasen and I lived,” said Iapetus. “We had barely had time to lick our wounds after our standoff with Tartarus—and even less time to talk about what we had become before we heard the drums of war beating once again.”

Damasen pressed a kiss to Iapetus’ forehead. He walked toward Reyna and Will. “What is it that you demigods are doing here by the door of Orpheus? Have you come to rescue a group of kidnapped demigods?” Will averted his gaze, heart quickening in his chest.

Will noticed Reyna look at him, clearly troubled by something. He suspected it had to do with the expression he probably had on his face. “Yes,” said Reyna, turning back to Damasen, “How did you know?

Will was beginning to find it more and more difficult to keep his mouth shut about what he and Nico had agreed to do. The act still left a bitter taste in his mouth and weighed heavily on his conscience, but he had been shown that there was no other course of action. They were saving many lives for the price of one.

Will felt his stomach flip when a realization hit him. Nico had phrased it like that. Many lives for the price of one, except… it wasn’t just one life they were sacrificing. It was an entire cabin. The fact that anyone had to make such a decision made him sick to his stomach, and he wasn’t even the one that had to make it.

Will could only hope that Nico was holding up much better than he was. “There was an entire cabin of demigods taken to Tartarus and we were hoping to use the door of Orpheus to get there.”

Damasen frowned at Reyna. “How could that be?” said Damasen, brow furrowed in concern. “No more than four hours ago a ghost visited me and my army. It claimed to have come from Nico di Angelo, and it said that there were a few demigods being held captive in the heart of a contingent of Nyx’s forces encamped beyond the door of Orpheus.”

“We spent the better part of an hour waiting just inside the Door for anything to happen, until we charged out and realized that the rest of the park was empty,” said Damasen.

Reyna’s eyes widened. She had pieced a few pieces of the puzzle together. She looked at Will, horrified, as though she expected him to understand what it was that she had just had an epiphany about. Will tried his best to look equally as shocked and appalled. He hoped it was enough.

Reyna bounded away from where Will was standing, screaming “Hazel!” at the top of her lungs.

\----------

Nico let himself get thrown on his back by the sheer force of the blow from Arachne’s foil. Of course, it was all a ruse. It was one thing to _actually_ be on the brink of defeat, but he had learned from the best and he knew precisely how to play the game.

Part of the game was to let the enemy think that it was winning. The allure of victory, of certainty, after all, often drowned out the light of reason. Those were the Nameless One’s words, not his.

Briefly, Nico let his eyes wander to the edge of the tower, a part particularly thick in shadow so that Arachne would think he wanted to escape, but more importantly, a part that overlooked the battle in the palace grounds.

“You will not escape me, son of Hades,” said Arachne. The forces of Nyx were looking much more disorganized now that Arachne was occupied. It took all of Nico’s willpower to look slightly scared instead of triumphant. “It was a mistake, you coming here to fight me. You think you play the game so well, but my mistress knows it better.”

Nico raised Anathema with purposefully-trembling arms to shield himself from the slash of Arachne’s foil. Golden light flashed, metal screamed against metal, and then again as Anathema was sent spinning out of Nico’s hand and over the side of the tower.

Arachne levelled her foil at Nico’s chest and smiled cruelly. “Check—”

\----------

“—mate!” Annabeth screamed in her head. The game was over. She had won. She was going to be free now. “Checkmate!” she screamed again, though this time she managed to put a voice to her words. Only, Nyx had vanished.

Annabeth struggled against her bonds, but nothing happened. She was left alone with the dim cloud of light and the chessboard. It was as if Nyx had never been there to begin with. Annabeth’s vision blurred and when it cleared again, it became readily apparent that she wasn’t even in the mansion of Night.

Annabeth’s eyes snapped open and she saw a faceless man, with a body seemingly made of purest starlight, leaned over her. His features, as blank and unfinished as they were, were unearthly and beautiful.

The man of starlight took his hands away from Annabeth’s forehead and throat, and immediately the constricting pressure she had been feeling faded away. “Did you not know, Annabeth Chase” said Nyx, voice cold and cunning, “That the moment your friend and his father killed Tartarus, the River Styx lost its power to create unbreakable oaths?”

Annabeth tried to rise from where she lay, but quickly realized that she _still_ had no control over her extremities. There was another man of starlight holding her ankles down. That was all. No ropes. No chains. Only a man holding on loosely to her ankles. She _still_ couldn’t move.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Annabeth hissed, glaring at the back of Nyx’s head.

Great leathery wings unfurled from the _protogenos’_ back and flapped once. Shadows washed over Annabeth like a dark wind, and she shuddered in fear and disgust. “Your silver tongue may have helped you escape me once, daughter of Athena,” said Nyx, “Not this time. You and your ilk are certain to cause me trouble in this war I intend to wage and I cannot have that.”

Annabeth could not believe that she had thought Nyx was an idiot. Hubris. It was her fatal flaw, and it seemed that it was about to prove just how fatal it actually was.

“Right now, we are hovering somewhere over Chaos. A mile up? Three miles up? A hundred feet up? I don’t know. It is hard to tell this close to Chaos,” said Nyx. “Do you know what happens to a demigod when she is thrown into Chaos?”

“She dies,” said Nyx. She turned her head, eyes of burning starlight boring into Annabeth’s own. “Immediately. Without pain. I may be ruthless, Annabeth, but I am not cruel, after all.” Teeth as bright as the stars themselves shone in the darkness as Nyx pulled back her lips to bare them. “But, after death, even the soul is torn apart. No Hades. No Elysium. No rebirth. Only oblivion.”

Annabeth felt her pupils dilate with fear the moment she heard Nyx’s final word. Her hearing sharpened, and then clarified. She heard the sounds of her half-siblings sobbing and pleading, but she couldn’t turn her head to see the ones closest to her. Some of them were even offering their allegiance to Nyx, trying desperately to think their way out of this situation, but it seemed that Nyx was uninterested in their begging.

Two men of starlight rose from the far end of the wagon. They walked up to the two demigods furthest from Annabeth and picked them up. Annabeth’s breath hitched in her throat. Surely they could not do what she thought they were about to do. Surely there were laws. She was quickly proven wrong when two of her half-siblings were thrown over the side.

Two children of Athena flew into the darkness, screaming and flailing. 47 seconds straight of screaming. Annabeth counted each with mounting dread and morbid curiosity. The screaming immediately stopped after 47 seconds. There was only utter silence. No strangled yelp. No sound of flesh being torn apart.  Only screaming, and then an unsettling nothingness.

Annabeth counted the seconds. Another pair went overboard. Forty-seven seconds after, silence. Annabeth felt her entire body tremble. It was one thing to face death. That was something that every demigod learned to accept early on. She was prepared to die protecting the ones that she loved. She had always known that she would always see many of them again. Another two went screaming into the abyss. This was different.

Annabeth prayed to whatever gods could possibly be listening. She knew that she had been bested, had allowed her pride to blind her. There was no getting out of whatever it was that awaited her. “Oblivion,” said Nyx, as though she could read Annabeth’s mind. “Oblivion is what awaits you, daughter of Athena. I thought Arachne had told you about that.”

Death was one thing. Being wiped off of the face of the earth, severed from everything and reduced to wispy nothing, was another. Annabeth was _afraid_ because she knew that this meant the end. There would be no Elysium for her. No teary reunion with Percy. She dreaded to think what he would do if he followed her there only to realize that she was nowhere to be found.

Annabeth heard Malcolm’s screams—extinguished forty-seven seconds later—and the tears began to come hot and fast. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she struggled against her captors, but even she knew that the battle had already been lost. The battle had long since been won.

“Farewell, daughter of Athena,” said Nyx. Annabeth had not even noticed that she had been brought to the edge of the wagon. “Enjoy your last forty-seven seconds,” said Nyx, and Annabeth took her plunge to oblivion.

\----------

“Frank!” Reyna yelled just as she burst through the trees. She was there just in time. She saw Hazel’s eyes roll up into her head, overwhelmed by the sensation. “Catch her!” said Reyna.

Frank did not need to hear much more. Before Hazel could hit the forest floor, there was already a very fluffy wolf there to break her fall.

\----------

The Welsh demigods and the army of the dead broke through the lines of Nyx’s army. They slammed against the walls of the palace and streamed in through the gate. The structure began to crumble. “It is done,” said Nico, looking up at Arachne as she looked down at the sorry turn of the battle.

“It is done,” said Arachne with fury. She thrust her foil forward, just as bright golden light flashed. A roar of exquisite pain filled the night sky.

\----------

Will stumbled backward in shock. Just as Nico had told him, so it had transpired. He felt as though a rapier had just been driven through his chest, but he was unhurt—other than minotaur vomit getting in his hair.

“It is done, then,” Will whispered to nothing in particular. His voice was so soft that he was sure no one else could hear it. Reyna and Frank, with an unconscious Hazel, burst from the foliage just as Will’s eyes closed and the pain of the intercepted wound overwhelmed him.

\----------

Arachne picked herself up from the floor. She was sure that whatever sorcery the son of Hades had, that she had killed him. The last thing that she expected was the shadow of the boy in the dust that her final strike had thrown up.

“My mistress has won,” said Arachne, wiping ichor from the corner of her lip. “She is coming for me now. She will save me from you, and she will _destroy_ you.”

“How are you so sure of that?” said Nico, lowering himself to the floor. He crossed his legs and tilted his head to the side. He held Anathema in his left hand, his right arm dangling limply to one side, dislocated at the shoulder. “It is quite clear to me what choice _she_ has made.”

“What do you mean?” said Arachne, a twinge of fear in her words as her eyes widened in horror. “She said that I was her most important general! She said that she _needed_ me.”

“What?” said Nico, the laughter that came from him downright cruel. He found a strange sort of sadistic glee in seeing one that was practically a goddess cower before him. “And you believed her?” he scoffed. “She lied, as she always does. She was just using you as a distraction. She now has everything she needs, but so do I. You’re no longer relevant. To either of us.”

“ _You’re_ lying!” said Arachne, flinging acid from her sleeve at Nico. Nico deflected the acid. Immediately, the caustic liquid began to burn through the floor of the tower. “She…” Arachne looked down at her hands. “She would _never_ abandon me!”

“Oh, you poor child,” said Nico. Arachne jolted back from him in surprise, her eyes flitting to the place where he had been sitting mere moments ago. He had appeared beside her without warning. Before Arachne could say anything else, pain lanced through her entire being. She looked down and saw that Anathema’s blade was already buried in her chest.

“You _tricked_ me,” said Arachne, cracks beginning to spiderweb up the side of her neck. “Was this _all_ a game to you?” she said. “You’re no less a monster than I am,” she said.

“I am a monster for better reasons than you are,” said Nico, long after Arachne had already been reduced to a pile of dust and ashes around his knees. “Or at least,” he said, looking at his own hands, “I hope that I am.” Nico turned his eyes to the heavens and screamed in anguish as the tears began to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voila! There it is. The climax of _The Years of My Longing_. I bet you weren't expecting that. But I bet the clues all make sense now. *cackles evilly* This was one of the most fun chapters to write. I'm hoping it was a rollercoaster of emotions, but I guess only you can tell me if I achieved my goal with this thing.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? I want your thoughts! This one's an extra long one, too. Describe to me what your experience reading this chapter was like! I am so very, very fascinated. <3.


	49. Man

Forty five. Annabeth shivered. She could not believe that everything she had done, everything she had ever worked for, _everything_ was going to end this way. All that she had built, all that she had accomplished, was worthless in the face of her fall into the Abyss.

At the very least, Annabeth thought, should the demigods win the war against Nyx, Theopolis would forever stand as a monument to her and her brothers and sisters. Annabeth was sure that her mother would never let anything happen to the city that they had all built together.

Forty six. Annabeth still couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that this was it. Everything was going to be over in just another second. She simply _couldn’t_ come to terms with the knowledge that neither she nor Percy would see the other again. It was a chilling thought.

Annabeth had no words to say. No one to say them to. She had no tears to shed. The last forty seven seconds of her life were worth more than just despair. She wasn’t going to give Nyx the pleasure of hearing her weep or hearing her scream. She knew it was a petty thing to try, and that the goddess was going to get what she wanted anyway, but it helped Annabeth to think that even in her last moments, she was defying the evil that threatened to scour them all from the face of the earth.

Forty se—. The falling sensation that Annabeth had been feeling came to a screeching halt. She hung in the darkness, suspended. Her eyes were wide in the infinite, eternal dark. Was this oblivion? It did not feel like what she had expected. She even felt like she still had a body. She wriggled her fingers just to make sure. Indeed, she still had a body. _Nothing_ made any sense.

Annabeth looked around, though it turned out to be quite the ordeal. She was still on her back, as though she were falling, only it didn’t actually feel like gravity was having any effect on her. She was just… _suspended_ in midair.

For a while, Annabeth thought that staying still would be her best bet of getting out of whatever situation she had found herself in now, but nothing seemed to change. It took her a _long_ time to gather the courage to try and move, afraid that any small motion would cause her to plummet even further into chaos.

The moment that Annabeth shifted, she found that it came surprisingly easy. She tentatively put out her foot and almost immediately it came into contact with what felt like a steep incline.

Annabeth pressed the heel of her foot into the incline and almost immediately, she felt herself fall backward, the pull of gravity having returned. She hit her back on a solid surface. The ground, maybe? It was rather difficult to tell. She couldn’t see a thing in the all-encompassing darkness around her.

Annabeth reached up for _anything_ that could help her pull herself up. Sure enough, she found one. However, when she got to her feet and let go of the railing, it vanished into nothingness. That was the least of Annabeth’s concerns, though. A dim gray light began to emanate from the centre of her chest, illuminating a small circle about three feet in radius around her feet.

Annabeth could almost make out tiles in the darkness, but it was _very_ difficult to tell. The light drowned out whatever detail there might have been. At the edges of the light, though, Annabeth could clearly see that the floor was nonexistent, only darkness underneath a thin layer of light.

Annabeth shook her head to clear it of the nausea that gripped her momentarily. She looked around, the light from her chest following the direction of her vision. She saw nothing but pitch black all around her, to her left and her right, forward and back, up and down. She was in the heart of the void, black as a starless night save for the small circle of light that pooled around her feet.

Apprehensive of her surroundings, Annabeth began to walk. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she thought it better to explore than stand around doing nothing. If anything, she wanted to know if she was standing on a platform surrounded by the void or if the void had somehow created a platform for her to stand and move upon.

Sure enough, as Annabeth approached the edge of her little sphere of light, the tiles moved with her, keeping her aloft. Keeping her safe, although safe from what, exactly, remained to be seen. Annabeth found that thinking like that was much easier than thinking about how odd it was that oblivion didn’t feel very much like oblivion at all.

Annabeth had been walking for what felt like a hundred years, her legs never getting exhausted, her breathing never becoming laboured. She stopped and she realized that the darkness around her was not constricting. It did not stifle her light, nor did it crowd around her.

Annabeth looked around in surprise at the darkness that was not hostile. She didn’t feel like she was about to get swallowed up. It was strangely comforting, after all the nightmares of the darkness of Tartarus, to be in a void that seemed to be welcoming compared to that.

Annabeth kept on walking. She wasn’t sure what it was that she hoped to find. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what could possibly be down here. Maybe, she thought, just _maybe_ , there were doors out of oblivion like there were doors out of the Underworld. This place was about as unexplored as unexplored places could go, after all. She hadn’t even considered that oblivion, that _chaos_ , would be an actual place. And yet, there she was.

Still, the thought of darkness weighed heavily on Annabeth’s shoulders. Her loneliness scared her. She could handle it, could convince herself that she wasn’t in Tartarus anymore, but she was worried for Percy. She wondered how long it had been since she got there, but there was no way to tell. She only felt like it had been a _very_ long time.=

Whether an eternity passed between her thoughts and the chuckle that followed after them, Annabeth could not honestly say. She whirled around and saw a familiar figure standing in the distance, bathed in a similar light to the one that radiated from her chest. Annabeth saw her father there, and she did what made the most sense to her. She started to run, tears streaming down the sides of her face.

Annabeth blinked, and her father was gone, replaced by her mother reaching out to her with tear-stained cheeks and grieving eyes. Annabeth shook her head from side to side, the composure that she had been fighting to maintain fragmenting at the sight of Athena.

Another blink, and all hell broke loose. Athena shimmered into the form of Percy. “Annabeth,” said the Percy-image, in a voice so _very_ unlike him. The laughter that followed was chilling. Annabeth stopped in her tracks, shocked to her core. She knew exactly who it was that was standing before her.

“Oh sweet Annie,” said the Nameless One, before Annabeth could give any voice to her thoughts, “You have always been too clever for your own good.”

Annabeth swayed ever so slightly from side to side. The Nameless One’s voice had taken on a downright musical, hypnotic quality. There had always been discord in the Nameless One’s voice, as though there were countless people trying to talk over one another. This time, though, it was different.

Here, in the abyss, the Nameless One’s voice seemed more… _whole_. It was masculine but feminine at the same time, soft but loud. It was smooth, but sharp. It was harmonious yet discordant.

“Is this not oblivion, then?” said Annabeth, looking at the Nameless One with pleading eyes. Silence answered her question. Annabeth supposed that was enough of an answer. No. This was not oblivion. “Have you come to save me, then? Have you come to bring me back to camp? To Percy?”

The Nameless One shook his head in what Annabeth could only describe as sadness. “No,” said the ancient deity, genuine regret in his voice. “I have not come to save you from oblivion.” Annabeth’s shoulders slumped forward.

“However,” said the Nameless One, the pep returning to his voice, “freezing time the instant before you were about to get torn apart by chaos was, _in fact_ , my doing.” The Nameless One smiled genially at Annabeth. “I am giving you all the time in the world to come to terms with your new truth, daughter of Athena. A noble soul such as yours deserves better than to face destruction with a whirling torrent of unresolved emotion.”

“What _is_ it that you want with me?” said Annabeth, surprised at the venom that dripped from her own words.

“Oh,” said the Nameless One, chuckling as his disguise of Percy melted away to reveal Nico instead. “It’s rather simple, really,” he said. “I intend to give whatever remains of your divine essence, after Chaos has had its way with you, to Nyx.”

Annabeth was mortified. She took a step toward the Nameless One, about to launch into a tirade about how the Nameless One was a traitorous bastard. He literally took the words from her through and crushed them into dust in his fingers.

“Save me your sermon, Annabeth Chase,” said the Nameless One, taking on the form that was more familiar to Annabeth, seemingly his default. She was a bit afraid of him, to be honest. “Do you remember the men that were made of starlight? The ones that you faced just before Nyx had them throw you over the side of the wagon?”

Annabeth frowned but she said nothing. Those men terrified her, too. She had felt powerless against them, and they hadn’t even been armed. They hadn’t even looked _intelligent_. “Nyx learned a few things from Gaea and her Alcyoneus,” said the Nameless One. “Why stop at Alaska when you can have the whole world?”

“I’m not sure what this has to do with m—” Annabeth’s jaw clamped shut as everything clicked into place. It was a terrifying epiphany. She fell backward in horror, only to find that the platform under her feet followed her motion and kept her standing. Only, this time, she was on a floor angled differently from the Nameless One.

“Oh, that’s my favourite trick in the book,” said the Nameless One with a laugh. He snapped his fingers and Annabeth moved back into the right position relative to him. “I need only provide you with the last piece of the puzzle, no?” said the Nameless One with a wicked grin. “Nyx has already managed to collect the essences of the most powerful deities that represent aspects or territories of this world.”

Annabeth recoiled in horror as though she had just been slapped. “T-the men of starlight,” she stammered, looking at the Nameless One with abject terror. The blood had entirely drained from her face, if she even had any blood left. “They will be invulnerable. Everywhere. Under any circumstance.”

The Nameless One laughed. “Stop being alarmist, Annabeth,” he said. “Even that magic has its limits, dear child,” he said.

“The _Sterai_ are not invulnerable to each other, nor would they remain untouchable should they ever leave this planet,” said the Nameless One. “However, I highly doubt that you or your friends would be able to find a way to ship an entire group of thirteen of the most powerful deities ever created in the history of your culture into space to massacre them.”

“I only saw six,” said Annabeth, eyes wide and voice trembling. “There can’t be more than six. We can take care of six!” she said. She took a deep breath to push away the irrational panic that was scattering her thoughts. “Why would Nyx need my essence, then? I am not a powerful deity!”

The Nameless One shook his head and smiled at Annabeth. “No,” he said, “But you have the blood of one within you.” The Nameless One pointed at Nyx’s wagon high above them, suspended in time. “What is the first thing that you noticed about them?”

Annabeth blushed, the truth slipping from her lips before she could bite it back. “They were beautiful,” she said. The Nameless One looked at her expectantly. “And they were unfinished,” she said. Annabeth looked at her apparently-bare feet. “I still don’t get what _I_ have to do with any of this.”

“What the _Sterai_ lack right now is intellect. They have no knowledge, thinking, or cunning of their own. Right now they are little more than savage beasts, puppets serving the wishes of their master, Nyx. Even she doesn’t want such liabilities fighting for her in the war.”

The Nameless One reached across what had seemed to be a vast distance between himself and Annabeth and clasped her shoulder. His touch was warm and surprisingly comforting, even in the face of his betrayal. “She wants to give them _life_. A weapon can be stolen with ease, after all, but a willing servant cannot.”

Annabeth was about to interject, but again, the Nameless One stopped her. “ _Your_ essence, in particular, may not be necessary. Nyx will find a way to give them that life. Only, it is in _your_ camp’s best interests that _your_ essence be used to give them thought.”

“Not necessarily Nyx’s,” said the Nameless One with a toothy grin. Annabeth groaned inwardly, no longer sure of whether or not to trust the Nameless One. She could already see it, deception layered so thickly upon other deceptions that the Nameless One’s grand plan was nearly indecipherable. “You cannot trust me, not for your own safety, or the safety of anyone that you love. But you can trust me that I have the best interests of the Greeks at heart.”

“Should Nyx give the _Sterai_ thought that is not wrought from yours,” said the Nameless One, “the _Sterai_ will pose a nigh-insurmountable threat to the Greeks and to the Romans. Things will go _very_ badly for them before they get any better, if they even do.”

Annabeth wondered idly if the Nameless One was threatening her. The Nameless One shrugged, as though in response. “I am merely stating facts,” he said, nonchalantly, “One culture being destroyed is not going to be a setback to the grand plan.”

“I have destroyed entire peoples myself before,” said the Nameless One. “You know those statues on Easter Island? They were once sacred to one of the most advanced human civilizations in the world. I destroyed them when they turned corrupt and hedonistic, living only for pleasure and no longer for progress. The Greeks and the Romans being scoured from the face of the earth will be a nuisance to me, yes, but they will just be another name to add to my list.”

There was a weariness in the Nameless One’s words that Annabeth had to fight to catch, but it was gone almost as soon as it had come. “Although,” said the Nameless One, a genuine twinge of hopefulness in his voice, “I _am_ quite fond of Nico di Angelo and would rather not see him destroyed.

Annabeth looked down at her shaking hands, then at the Nameless One who had just spoken of genocide as though it was an item on a grocery list. She had not realized… she had not even imagined the depth of the lies and secrets that she faced in him.

Annabeth had never _fathomed_ just how much larger than her the Nameless One’s plan was. To this ancient deity, they were all just _pawns_. The look she shot at the Nameless One was equal parts awed, accusatory, and afraid.

Here, so near to oblivion, the masks were beginning to fall away. The Nameless One was revealing his true nature as the unseen entity, the invisible puppetmaster working the stage from what Annabeth suspected was the beginning of humanity’s unwritten history.

Frankly, it was _terrifying_ to think what parts of history the one deity that stood in front of Annabeth had orchestrated. Annabeth shook her head and took a deep breath. “Could you answer me one question before you show me to oblivion?” she asked.

The Nameless One spread his arms to either side. “I thought you would never ask,” he said, with a toothy grin. “I will, so long as you can answer one question of mine.”

Annabeth’s eyes furrowed. She could not imagine what it was that the Nameless One could possibly want from her, but she decided to go with it. “Why choose me? Why not any of my brothers and sisters?”

The Nameless One chuckled, the sound chilling in the face of the silence of the void. He leaned back and examined Annabeth appraisingly, amused, slightly proud. “Dealing with you, child of Athena,” he said, “will be _lots_ of fun.” The Nameless One smiled. “What is my name?”

\----------

Wyn sighed, his back hitting the solid brick wall of the entrance to the theatre. He was bone-tired. Partly because it was already past midnight, but also because he was just emotionally exhausted. He felt _raw_ , and he didn’t like that.

Wyn didn’t look back at the doors for Jason. He couldn’t be bothered to, to be honest. He instead turned his eyes to the night sky, still bizarrely devoid of clouds and smog and instead filled with beautiful, glittering stars and the band of the Milky Way.

The tears came from out of nowhere, entirely unexpected. For once, he allowed himself to entertain the thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , his father was now looking out for him. He was _so_ close to Camp Half-Blood, after all. So close to Olympus. He doubted it, still. His father was one of the most important Greek Gods. Wyn doubted Eros even cared.

Wyn turned to face the doors when he heard them opening nearby. He saw that Jason had come out of the theatre to look for him. He was about to say something, to apologize for the way that he had been acting since the beginning of their date, but immediately, he noticed that something was wrong.

Jason had stopped moving. The wind that had been cool on Wyn’s face earlier had actually stopped, too. Wyn knew that time was frozen, and he knew exactly _one_ deity that had the power to stop the world in such a way.

Wyn was about to call out for the Nameless One when the devil himself materialized in the air before him. He glared at the ancient god and reached out into empty space. The air shimmered as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a glass dagger, its blade glimmering under the starlight of the clear night sky.

“I have _waited_ so long to use this weapon,” said Wyn, teeth bared in a snarl at the Nameless One’s entirely-too-convenient appearance. “I’m glad you came to me rather than make me hunt you.”

Wyn took a single step toward the Nameless One, confidence surging at the Nameless One’s nervous glance toward the weapon he held threateningly in front of him. He thought he could see genuine _fear_ in those ever-changing eyes.

Wyn took another step. The Nameless One took a step back. That _was_ genuine fear in the Nameless One’s eyes. It only served to stoke the fire of fury that burned in Wyn’s veins. He looked at the glass dagger. “I found a little hidden magic years ago,” he said. “It’s powerful enough to kill the gods. I was going to use it against Arawn, but he convinced me not to.”

Wyn took a step, and then another, and then another. Before the Nameless One had any time to react, Wyn lunged forward and drove the glass dagger through the Nameless One’s chest.

Light scattered from the wound that Wyn had just ripped open in the god. The Nameless One had nary a moment to cry out in agony as he imploded, every single part of his body turning into light that collapsed into a singularity of glittering starlight at the tip of Wyn’s dagger.

\----------

Nico rested his left shoulder against the doorframe to Will’s side of the apartment. The entire place was dark, Will seated in the middle of the living room. Will was shrouded in darkness, sitting in the lotus position where the coffee table would have been had it not been shoved aside rather unceremoniously.

Nico took a step into the room, every facet, every nook and cranny of it as clear to him in the dark as it would have in the light. “The darkness suits you more than you think, Solace,” he said, with a hopeful smile that Will had no hope in Hades of seeing through the dark.

Will didn’t reply for the longest time. Nico feared that Will had fallen asleep, or even worse, that Will had changed his mind about Nico. He sagged in relief when finally, Will sucked in a deep breath. “And you have no idea how good you look in the light of the sun, di Angelo,” said Will, relief clear on his voice.

The first thing that Nico noticed was the grin that grew on Will’s face. It was so earnest, so hopeful, so relieved, so sincere, that it tugged at his heartstrings.

Will’s white teeth were radiant in the darkness, the only light in an otherwise pitch-black room. Slowly, a golden glow began to creep across his skin and Nico couldn’t help but think that he had never seen anything more beautiful. Sunlight flooded the room in a near-blinding flash as Will lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Nico’s shoulders. “You’re safe,” Will breathed as he pressed a trembling kiss to Nico’s cheek.

For once, the disgust that Nico felt in the pit of his stomach was overcome by his relief that Will had not been speared or cleft in twain by a minotaur. His magic might have been strong, but it wasn’t _that_ strong. “I was never in any real danger,” he said, the words as heavy on his tongue as they were on his conscience.

“I know,” said Will, his words ragged with emotion. “I know, but I was still afraid.”

Nico nodded, and though his instincts raged at him to back away, he fought them. He held on to Will, desperately drinking in Will’s warmth. He was actually slightly disappointed when Will jumped away from him. “I’m sorry,” said Will apologetically. Nico could tell Will wanted to avert his gaze, but neither of them could take their eyes off of the other. “You know,” said Will, worry cresting over the relief on his face, “None of them are happy abo—”

“I know,” said Nico, cutting in before Will could say anything else. “And you know what?” he said, “I don’t fucking care.”

Nico took a step forward, pressing his body against Will’s. Pale, shaking hands reached out and found purchase on either side of Will’s face. He pulled the son of Apollo close and kissed him with all the chaste passion that he could muster in his body.

Will’s lips were warm and tingled with life-giving sunlight. The golden glow that surrounded them became even more resplendent, even as the shadows that pooled at Nico’s feet grew darker and deeper. Will’s lips felt so right against his that even the disgust that reared its ugly head in his stomach could not dispel the magic of the moment.

When finally, the two of them pulled apart, Will looked slightly dazed, eyes unfocused and glazed over with want. Nico felt rather lightheaded himself, both in good and bad ways. After the moment had passed, and the silence grew pregnant with tension, Will earnestly said, “You have to talk to them, Nico.”

“Don’t worry,” said Nico, with a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t planning on hiding from them.” He clutched Will’s shoulder and squeezed before stepping away, averting his gaze for the first time since he had returned to the camp. “Thank you for that,” he said.

“No,” said Will, fingers brushing over his still-tingling, slightly-bruised lips. “Thank you for letting me in,” he said. Nico nodded. The pink on his cheeks was hard to miss. Nico headed for the door, but Will stopped him, the grip on his arm much stronger than he remembered it ever being. “Don’t go out there unprepared,” said Will, “They think you’re a traitor.”

Nico gently removed Will’s hand from his arm and held it. He looked at Will, dark eyes boring into bright blue ones. “And you think I’m not that?” he said, voice heavy with grief.

\----------

Cold laughter sent a chill up the length of Wyn’s spine. The speck of light that had clung to the tip of his glass dagger began to pulse, iridescence rippling across the surface of the blade from the tip. “Did you really believe that that would work on me?” said the Nameless One, emerging fully-formed from the dagger.

“So long as you hold on to some fragment of your humanity,” said the Nameless One, voice thick with utter condescension, “you will never be able to destroy me.”

Wyn felt rage surge through his veins. He raised his hand and stabbed his dagger again and again into the chest of the Nameless One. Wherever he struck, he opened a wound from which pure white light spilled and nearly blinded him. “I don’t fucking care about my humanity,” said Wyn.

“Oh really?” said the Nameless One, regenerating his wounds faster than Wyn could ever hope to inflict them. “Do you really not care about your humanity? Do you really have nothing to tether you to your very nature? No strings attached to your heart? No faces you want to wake up to in the morning?”

The Nameless One’s face contorted for a moment, and Wyn couldn’t help but gasp when he saw Nico standing in front of him. His hand fell limp to his side, but he forced himself onward. He told himself that this was just the Nameless One. That the Nameless One was just playing with him.

Heart heavy, Wyn raised his dagger and plunged it into Nico’s chest. The Nameless One screamed in agony, using Nico’s voice in the place of his own. Wyn pressed on. He had to _try_ to end the Nameless One. “Stop! Using! His! Body!” he screamed, punctuating every word with a stab of the glass dagger.

Doing so much damage to Nico, even if he was just being used as a mask by the Nameless One, was difficult for Wyn. It was an ordeal in and of itself. Seeing Nico writhing in pain under his efforts was _harrowing_ for Wyn.

“Oh?” said the Nameless One, his form shimmering for but a moment. “Is that what you want? Fine. Let me use _this_ one,” he said.

Wyn glared up at the Nameless One, only to meet shockingly-blue, shockingly-familiar eyes. Jason. Wyn stumbled back, the dagger slipping through his suddenly-numb fingers.

The dagger that Wyn had paid blood, sweat, and tears for, had spent _years_ putting together the right spells to create, shattered against the sidewalk. All that was left was a glittering pile of dust and slightly larger fragments of glass. Years of work destroyed in an instant.

\----------

Three times the Nameless One came to Annabeth. Each occasion was seemingly separated by an eternity of thought, of pondering. Three times, the Nameless One came to ask if Annabeth had figured out the answer to his deceptively-easy question. Three times Annabeth had not known.

This time was the fourth. The Nameless One stood before Annabeth, an amused expression on his face. Annabeth was confident that she had _finally_ figured it all out. She had a single word fixed in the forefront of her mind. “I know your name,” she said.

“Oh,” said the Nameless One, an eyebrow quirking in curiosity, “you do?” The Nameless One made an arcane gesture with one of his hands and between his fingers appeared a cloud of golden mist that was filled with drifting _letters_. Countless ones, shifting eternally from one language to the next. “Then let me give you the words to speak it.”

The Nameless One flipped his hand over and splayed his fingers. He thrust them forward at Annabeth. From the tips of his fingers, streams of mist shot out and soaked into Annabeth’s throat and mouth.

Annabeth gasped for the air that she had long ago figured out she did not need so close to oblivion. The mist was painful beyond anything she could imagine. It burned the inside of her throat and turned her tongue numb to any taste—even the pungent one of her own blood.

Annabeth’s eyes briefly glowed golden, and when the light finally subsided, so too did the mist. Annabeth scowled at the Nameless One and opened her mouth to speak the singular word that she had fixed in her mind. The name that she _knew_ simply _had_ to be the Nameless One’s name. Except, Annabeth quickly realized that she was not speaking just a single word.

Annabeth spoke not a word. She spoke something intangible, something abstract. She spoke using a language that was entirely foreign to her, and yet, at the same time, strangely familiar. She spoke of histories that she had never known to exist, and yet still resonated with something primal within her.

Annabeth spoke of the rise of civilization on all the known continents, from the plains of Africa, to the Indus River Valley of Asia, and to the great expanse of the Americas, among others.

Annabeth spoke, and yet, she felt like she was singing a lilting song of joy and sorrow, of creation and destruction, of progress and regression. Annabeth spoke of Sumeria, Phoenicia, Assyria, Egypt, Persia. Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke the truest and most accurate telling of the histories of Greece and Rome.

Annabeth raised her eyes to the Nameless One with awe even as her mouth continued to move of its own accord. Her words spanned the many histories of all the civilizations that the world had ever known. She spoke of some she had never even heard of, and many of those that she had. She spoke of the British Empire, of the founding of America, of the First World War, of the Second, and  of the Cold War among others.

Annabeth even spoke of her _own_ personal history, and that was where she thought that the recitation would end. It did not.

Annabeth went on to speak of things she had not ever even conceived of. She spoke of nations yet to be born, peoples yet to be united by common cause, disaster, or altruism. She spoke of gods still slumbering in the depths of the thoughts of mankind. She spoke of hopes, dreams, and ambitions all aimed collectively toward the countless stars that spanned the heavens.

When finally, Annabeth came to speak of the moment that humanity left its home world, she was able to stop. She clamped her jaw shut, exhausted by what she had just spoken. She sank to her knees, shivering in both joy and despair at all that she had witnessed in the Nameless One’s name.

“Tell me again my name, child,” said the Nameless One. There was a small, genuine smile playing upon his lips. “I have not heard it spoken so beautifully in a _very_ long time. Say it to me in the tongue that you best see fit.”

“ _Eautos_ ,” Annabeth breathed through shuddering gasps. The Nameless One hummed as though hearing music. “Me. Myself.” The Nameless One began to _glow_.

“Say it again, child,” said the Nameless One as he held out a hand to Annabeth. “Say it again and _understand_ what it means.”

“I…” Annabeth’s throat was raw. She could feel the blood trickling down it. Such a name was so powerful that even speaking it caused her great pain. “ _Man_.” The Nameless One shone with such radiant light that Annabeth felt her skin boiling in the heat.

It all made sense now. The millions of faces. The millions of voices. The way that the Nameless One slipped so easily from one form to the next. The Nameless One couldn’t just take on the _appearance_ of Percy. On the appearance of Annabeth’s father. The Nameless One could _become_ them.

The Nameless One was the First. He was the Alpha, and, at the end, he was to be the Omega. The Nameless One was not God as the Christians understood it. The Nameless One was the first deity that ever walked among the race of man, truly fluid of gender and possessed of all the diversity that humanity was. The Nameless One was the first deity that the earliest humans ever venerated—themselves.

The Nameless One was not just some other god. He was beyond that. He _transcended_ that. He represented the collective thoughts, and dreams, and ambitions of the human race. He was _humanity itself_ , the embodiment of an entire people, belonging to no civilization and bound by no laws. His powers were limited only by the extent and depth of the collective human imagination.

“Finally,” said the Nameless One, voice barely a whisper in the darkness. “You understand,” he said.

Annabeth, with tears in her eyes, nodded. She _did_ understand. The Nameless One faded from existence, and she could almost hear the ticking of the clock pick up. She counted. It was the last second she had left to her. _Forty seven_.

\----------

Annabeth opened her eyes to white so pure it was blinding. Oblivion did not look like what she had expected. She had not even expected to be conscious, truth be told. She awoke to a room made purely of whiteness, stark in contrast to the dark of the abyss that she had just experienced.

At the heart of the room sat what seemed to be a middle-aged man whose body seemed to vibrate with wild energy. His hair was unruly and looked like it could not stay in one style for any more than a heartbeat. The man’s eyes also moved frenetically, as though unable to settle for more than one second.

Thankfully, it looked like the man was deep in a game. A chessboard floated in the air in front of him, only this one was far more convoluted than anything Annabeth had ever seen. The ‘board’ was in actuality a plane surrounded by a cube surrounded by a tesseract and a number of other high-dimensional shapes all concentric upon a single point.

Annabeth could not even begin to fathom how anyone could play such a game, but she supposed it would be impolite to ask. “Welcome, Annabeth Chase,” said the man. “I am Chaos. Welcome to my realm,” he said. He looked at her for a moment, eyes glittering with so much ancient knowledge that Annabeth felt slightly lost.

“I have been expecting you,” said the first protogenoi. Annabeth took a single step toward him. “So has my friend,” said Chaos, moving the incredibly convoluted chessboard aside to show that the Nameless One there, seated beside him, a silver pawn in his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as my chapter notes go. This should be the second to the last. :P. There is another chapter coming, but I don't know when, because it's going to be a massive one. That will end _The Years of My Longing_ and its current working title is " _An Era of Destiny_."
> 
> There will also be an epilogue released on the same day, that hints at what happens after this entire series is over. :3. You'll meet an OC that's very special to me, but that's all that I'm going to say. >:].
> 
> Anyway. What did you think of this chapter? The big reveal of exactly who the Nameless One is? Annabeth being invited into Chaos. Nico and Will having that moment. Wyn trying to kill the Nameless One. So much happened this chapter, and I want to hear everything that you thought about it!


	50. The End of an Era - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this chapter is absolutely _massive_ I've decided to split it into two parts so that you won't have to wait as long for the rest of it. :3. Anyway, enjoy! :D.

“Queen me,” said the Nameless One with a large grin. He tossed the pawn across the air, making it arc across the distance that separated him from Chaos’ convoluted chessboard. The pawn landed perfectly in the middle of a white square and promptly shimmered, the metal seemingly liquefying before it took on the form of a queen.

Chaos chuckled and shook his head. With a flick of two fingers, Chaos sent the piece hurtling back at the Nameless One so fast that it was a blur. The Nameless One caught the queen in his hand, but the impact was so loud it nearly knocked Annabeth off of her feet.

“This is you,” said the Nameless One, “If you didn’t quite get that dramatic display.” Annabeth swayed slightly from side to side, still quite dazed by the entire ordeal. “Well, this _could_ be you, should you choose to take upon the duty that I require fulfilled.”

The Nameless One leaned forward and locked eyes with Annabeth. Annabeth’s breath caught in her throat. The Nameless One’s eyes were the same shade of sea-green as Percy’s. “Of course, a choice of that magnitude requires a sacrifice akin to removing one’s own limb, but that is simply the way of the world, an ancient law dictated by the cosmos itself.”

“I…” Annabeth shook her head. She was _dizzy_. She reached out and found a wall to support herself on. “I don’t know what you mean,” she rasped. The whole room had her feeling disorientated. All she wanted was to be home with Percy right now.

When Annabeth opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of one of Theopolis’ marble-and-gold streets. The buildings that she had lovingly designed through hours of hard work next to her mother loomed over her, somehow not as imposing as they had been before, but downright welcoming now.

Annabeth felt a hand on her shoulder and saw Chaos looking at her with what seemed to be a deep and sincere pride. “I have not seen a mind as strong as yours in all my years, able to shape my realm without even knowing what you were doing.”

Chaos smiled and nodded as the Nameless One appeared right next to him and Annabeth. “Is she the one that was foretold?” asked Chaos. “Is she the one that was promised?”

“You Greeks and your predestination,” said the Nameless One with a scoff. “Annabeth Chase is but one among many that could have stood here today. However, certain circumstances have led to _her_ being the one in our presence today and not any of the others.” The Nameless One looked at Annabeth with the same pride she had seen in Chaos’ eyes. “She will do very well indeed, should she choose to join us.”

“Join you?” Annabeth rasped. Her throat felt raw, as though it had been scoured by the simple act of speaking the Nameless One’s name. “None of this makes any sense.” Annabeth looked at the buildings around her and noticed that they were precisely as she had imagined. The architectural features which she designed, that would have been impossible in the original plans, were present. All of them looked perfect. All of them coexisted alongside the others with no trouble. “This isn’t Theopolis,” she said, “Where am I?”

The Nameless One smiled and tapped Annabeth’s cheek with a single finger. “Ever the curious type,” he mused, “I like that.” He placed a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder, and while she had expected it to be as cold and unfeeling as she had come to know the Nameless One to be, it was warm and welcoming.

The Nameless One’s hand alone was enough to make Annabeth feel like she was home, or at least, that she wasn’t, and wouldn’t ever again be, alone. “You haven’t moved one bit from where you were standing a few moments ago,” said the Nameless One. “This is the Formless Realm of Chaos, subject only to the will of its inhabitants, and limited only by their imagination. Why Chaos chose to create a white room with an infinite chessboard to live in this century is beyond me, to be honest.”

“Hey,” said Chaos, defensively clutching his infinite chessboard to his chest. He wagged an obsidian knight at the Nameless One with a third arm that apparently, he had spontaneously grown. “Don’t act like you didn’t give me the idea, friend,” said Chaos. “Besides, it’s a cool crib,” he added, reluctantly.

The Nameless One raised an eyebrow at the age-old deity and turned to Annabeth. He cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said.

Annabeth cut the Nameless One off. “Why did you choose me?” she demanded, the dizziness lifting from her mind. She forced her thoughts away from the wonders that she could bring into existence in this so-called Formless Realm. “You never answered my question.”

The Nameless One laughed. “You have a fire in your veins, child of Athena. You certainly are a child of your mother.” The Nameless One’s grip on Annabeth’s shoulder became even warmer. He looked downright sympathetic.

“You would not let Nyx defeat you,” said the Nameless One. “Even in the face of true hopelessness, even in your fall from grace, you held on. Your mind remained strong. Your heart remained resolute. Love gave you the strength to hang on, to persevere, and in the end, it is what will give you a chance at victory long after this war has passed.”

“You’re still not making any sense,” said Annabeth. “Any of my siblings would have suited your purposes well enough. Why me?” Annabeth felt her hubris stirring at the Nameless One’s words, but she forced it down.

“None of your brothers and sisters were as strong as you were,” said the Nameless One. Some small part of Annabeth wanted to say ‘of course,’ but she knew that was wrong. She was about to defend her siblings when the Nameless One interrupted her. “Do not pretend that you did not hear them begging Nyx to stop. That they would pledge themselves to her if only it meant salvation from the ultimate end.”

Annabeth’s shoulders slumped forward. She had indeed heard that. “So I offer you this choice, Annabeth Chase,” said the Nameless One, “And I would have you choose it of your own free will.”

“Would you remain and take upon the mantle that I wish to give you? Or do you wish to return to him that holds your heart in his hands, who even in grief still looks for you, as vain a task as that might be?”

“What is this mantle that you speak of,” said Annabeth, concern in her voice. She was tempted, but the Nameless One’s cryptic words gnawed at her and made her _fear_.

The Nameless One waved his hand and instantly, Theopolis collapsed into a single point of light that he flung out into the darkness. Chaos, beside Annabeth, breathed into the palm of his hand and scattered glittering stars across the blackness, revealing the cosmos in all of its wondrous glory to Annabeth.

“It has been foretold,” said Chaos, “that not long from now, mankind will find itself at a crossroads. War, or unity. Death on this wretched world, or life as an empire spanning across the myriad stars.” Chaos seemed to shiver a little at the very thought. “Greece and Rome have already helped to take the first step, their cultures paving the way for the world of today, their demigods playing a big part in sending man to the moon.”

“Soon,” said Chaos, voice dropping low to a whisper. “Very soon, these demigods will help take man even further. Soon, the cities of man will span the heavens, and though the Nameless One will forever be the patron of our people, those that live among the stars will need new gods to guide them into a new age.”

“I offer you a choice, Annabeth Chase,” said the Nameless One, “as Zeus once offered your beloved. I offer you the choice between Perseus Jackson or ascension into godhood. Would you choose love over becoming something greater than both Greece and Rome combined? Would you choose a boy over becoming the patron goddess of those that travel the void of space and those who build their lives amidst stars far from home?”

“You’re not giving me any answers,” said Annabeth, the silver glow dancing between her fingers taking on a sharper quality. “You’re giving me riddles that I can’t figure out. How will that even work? If I become a goddess neither Greek nor Roman, but of people that will live among the stars, then who will worship me? I would just… _fade_ with no mortals to sustain me. You offer me nothing more than a choice between love and certain oblivion!”

The Nameless One smiled. His hand on Annabeth’s shoulder drained away her anger and left her gasping for air. “Should you make your choice,” he said, in a deceptively kind voice, “there will be thirteen of the strongest minds ever born that will honour you as their goddess. Their leader. Their patron.”

“The _Sterai_ ,” Annabeth breathed. The sheer horror of the thought left her shaken. To be the patron goddess of those monsters was unthinkable.

“You were right, old friend,” said Chaos, flashing a toothy grin in the direction of the Nameless One. “He does catch on quite quick.”

“I can’t be the patron goddess of those _things_ ,” Annabeth hissed. “They killed my brothers and sisters. Gods know how many of my friends they’ll kill by the time all of this is over!” she added. She was shaking with anger, fear, and simply from the effort of not giving in to the temptation of seizing power.

Annabeth had to admit, the prospect of guiding mankind into the stars was a very tempting one. One of her dreams had always been to help design the first city that would be built on another planet that was not earth. Her principles, though, they rebelled at the thought. She could not bring herself to be complicit in the murder of demigods that she had come to know and love like family.

“Few,” the Nameless One reassured Annabeth. “They will kill very few, and those will not even remain dead for long.” The Nameless One looked at Annabeth, eyes and voice heavy with urgency. “There is a reason that I wished to give them consciousness crafted from the remnants of yours.”

“You did not bend to Nyx, did not give her any satisfaction. The same will be true of the _Sterai_ , should your mind give life to theirs,” said the Nameless One. “They will see Nyx as their mother and know that war will be what they owe her for their lives, but they will do no violence and save all that they can.”

“You and you alone can win this war before it even begins,” said the Nameless One. “The _Sterai_ will fight your friends. The _Sterai_ will kill some of your friends. But the _Sterai_ will also bring them back in the end, and they will ensure that the camps survive the war.”

\----------

“Shame,” said the Nameless One as he looked upon the pile of shattered glass at Wyn’s feet. Wyn could almost hear the sneer in the Nameless One’s voice. The stinging reminder of his failure.

“You could have used that for something else, truth be told,” said the Nameless One. “You could have used that dagger for something more sensible, something that, when the day comes, you will agree with me, is more important than carrying out some sick revenge fantasy against an entity you cannot hope to ever defeat.”

Wyn glared at the Nameless One and immediately averted his gaze. The Nameless One was still bearing the guise of Jason, and Wyn had to look away or else be captured by the spell that he was sure the Nameless One was weaving.

“Stop trying to cast the shadow upon others, Eirwyn Argall,” said the Nameless One, his hand darting through the air between himself and Wyn. Fingers sharp as claws dug into Wyn’s flesh, and he knew, without doubt, that the Nameless One wasn’t Jason. Jason was never so rough. “There is only one reason that you are where you are now, Eirwyn, and that is the fact that you knowingly did the wrong things.”

The Nameless One shook his head, the scorn in his voice evening out to disappointment. “Did you seriously believe that deceiving the person you had fallen in love with was a good idea? Did you really think it would not make them resent you? If you did, then I am afraid you are more delusional than I had believed you were.”

Wyn shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he stammered, though he was speaking more to convince himself now than the Nameless One. “You’re wrong. What do you know of love? You’re just some sick god playing with people as though our lives were a game.” Wyn angrily wiped away tears with the back of his hand. “I’m a son of Eros. I know what love is. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Wyn balled his fingers into a fist and raised his hand to strike at the Nameless One, but he was stopped before he could even launch his attack. “Don’t antagonize me, boy,” said the Nameless One. “How do you know love? What do you know of love?”

“The way that your mother denied who you were for so many years. Did you think that was love?” said the Nameless One, teeth bared in a snarl. He took one step forward, and immediately, Wyn took one back. “The way that your stepfather came home drunk each night and stroked the side of your face and called you his sweet baby boy as he took you, violated you, _convinced_ you that this was your place. Did you think that was love?”

Wyn’s stomach churned as the memories were ripped from the depths of his memories and brought immediately to the surface. “The way that your mother pretended not to hear your crying the first time your stepfather came to you. Did you think that was love?” The Nameless One grabbed Wyn’s chin, fingers digging into the skin there, as well. “What do you know of love, Eirwyn Argall, when all your life you have squandered what little of it has been freely given to you?”

Were the Nameless One wearing any other body, any other face, using any other voice but Jason’s, his words would have most certainly fallen on deaf ears, but Wyn’s eyes quickly stung with tears. Wyn recoiled with horror from the Nameless One, as though he had just been slapped across the face with realization.

“The way that _you_ collared Nico di Angelo, practically _enslaved_ the boy. Did you think that was love?” The Nameless One spat on the ground at Wyn’s feet. “The way that _you_ push Jason Grace away because you are too busy chasing your pride. Is that love, Eirwyn Argall? Or is that the pathetic attempt of a hollow man grasping for what he thinks will make him whole again?”

“F-fuck off!” Wyn managed, but there was no confidence to back those words.

“You have a lot to learn about what you have deluded yourself into thinking is your domain,” said the Nameless One. He shook his head. “But until then, let me show you what else you have done wrong. Let me show you what it means to destroy me.”

The Nameless One raised a single arm, and immediately, Wyn’s head snapped up to follow it. Wyn felt the control leave his body, his entire perception forced to follow the motions of the god in front of him. The Nameless One swept his arm across the heavens and the earth, erasing all of it until all that was left of what had been around the two of them was a black void.

Wyn saw himself in the distance, standing in front of a creature made of interwoven tendrils of golden mist that rose from the darkness. His image-self raised the dagger of glass that he had had mere moments ago, and stabbed it into the heart of the golden-mist-creature.

Wyn suspected that the being of mist was the true form of the Nameless One. Each strike of the dagger dissolved a part of the golden mist that made up the Nameless One’s wispy form, but time and again, golden mist flowed from Wyn’s chest to heal the damage.

The scene changed, and the smell of sulphur almost overwhelmed Wyn. He squeezed his eyes shut as nausea washed over him. When he opened them again, he saw a barren, desolate wasteland. It was a vast plain filled with smoke and ash.

Dead trees, gnarled and lifeless, rose from the ashen heat-baked earth like hands clawing for life that the red-and-black sky overhead could not provide. The Nameless One was there again, but his form flickered like a light bulb that was on its last legs.

Behind the Nameless One, to either side of him, were Nico and Jason. In front of the Nameless One was a darkness so black that it looked like a hole in the world, shaped vaguely like a man. Instinctively, Wyn knew it was him. Him without a single shred of his humanity.

The dark Wyn plunged the glass dagger into the Nameless One’s chest and immediately the Nameless One was dispersed into nothing. The sight shook Wyn from his melancholy. Glee replaced his grief. How stupid of the Nameless One to show how he could be defeated.

A heartbeat later and whatever jubilation Wyn had in his heart curdled into abject horror. It started with Nico, cracks travelling across his skin as he began to crumble to dust, carried away by the scorching wind that began to blow across the blighted earth.

Then, it happened with Jason. Wyn stepped forward, pulled inexorably toward the man that his heart was desperately trying to keep out. His eyes snapped upward, meeting Jason’s eyes. They looked at him with sadness, bright blue turning paler and paler until they were gray. And then, Jason, too, turned to dust.

Wyn raised his eyes and saw every face that he had ever known, all the people he had ever loved, all the friends he had ever made. He saw them, and beyond them he saw the faces of every single person that had ever lived in the history of the human race. One by one at first, and then row by row, and then altogether, they turned to dust.

Wyn looked down at his hands, expecting them to turn to dust, too, but instead he saw the darkness of the void creeping up his arms. “No,” he whispered, turning to the Nameless One with horror at what he had done.

The Nameless One was nowhere to be seen. “No!” Wyn screamed. “NO! You can’t do this!” The darkness slowly crept up Wyn’s body, inexorably consuming him until all that remained was a man-shaped hole at the heart of a desolate, lifeless wasteland.

Wyn gasped for breath as the scene changed a second time. This time around, the wasteland was replaced by a resplendent city of steel, stone, and glass. All around Wyn, fantastical buildings rose to the sky, filled with people going about their day-to-day lives.

As Wyn narrowly dodged a flying car that swooped down from a road seemingly made of light high above him, he caught sight of the golden mist-form of the Nameless One. “You may think that there is only one way to lose one’s humanity,” said the Nameless One, appearing suddenly by Wyn’s side. “But there are more ways than turning your soul black as night.”

“When progress trudges onward, unchecked and without guidance, it is easy to throw away what can be seen as weaknesses, as flaws in the human condition,” said the Nameless One.

Wyn felt the world shift, and when he opened his eyes he saw cages upon cages of beasts, all contorted into some humanoid form or another. “Oh,” said the Nameless One, with chilling laughter, “you think these are beasts given human form? No. These are humans given the forms of beasts in a vain attempt at reaching for immortality.”

The world shifted again and Wyn found himself in the middle of a plaza, alone. In front of him stood the Nameless One and a being of such pure white light that it _hurt_ just looking at it.

The creature of whiteness glowed with a scathing radiance that burned Wyn’s exposed skin. “This man,” said the Nameless One, gesturing to the creature that stood in front of him, “is the perfected human being in the eyes of this world. He has no need for humanity, for emotion, for the flaws that ‘plagued’ the race once.”

“This man is perfectly calculating and wise.” Unlike the stab of the man of darkness earlier, the painfully-radiant man struck with surgical precision. The Nameless One dissolved into motes of golden light. “That man has no need of me, and that man is doomed to destruction.”

A mighty boom resounded through the plaza. Wyn whipped his head around and saw a gigantic crack climbing one of the nearby buildings. Metal screeched, and glass shattered. People screamed as the grand utopia that stood around Wyn came crashing to the ground.

“Understand what I have shown you, Eirwyn Argall,” said the Nameless One, voice stern and flat. “Understand and know the value of the humanity you hold within yourself. Let go of past wounds that still hurt you. Move forward in this life like you were always meant to. The only instrument for and obstruction to your happiness is you. Remember that.”

\----------

Nico gently pried Will’s fingers from his arms. For some reason, he felt afraid to break Will. He could see new strength in Will, yes, but he could also feel a new fragility. They would have to talk. They had _so much_ to talk about.

Nico opened the door to the outside world and let it bang against a nearby wall. He walked out onto the porch of the dual-apartment, his stride more confident and calm than he _actually_ felt inside. He looked around in the dim gray light of the pre-dawn and beheld two other demigods waiting out there.

Nico cleared his throat. “Frank Zhang,” he said. He was frankly a little bit disappointed that the two weren’t actually looking at the door. He thought about how easy it would have been to knock the two out without even breaking a sweat. “Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano,” said Nico, louder this time.

The two praetors of the Twelfth Legion jumped where they stood, startled by the tone of Nico’s voice. “Praetors of New Rome,” said Nico, a smirk playing on his lips. “Get your fucking shit together.” Nico rolled his eyes at the two.

Reyna and Frank gawked at Nico for a moment. They couldn’t quite tell if he was messing with them, or if he was being serious. They shared a nervous look. It was Reyna that stepped forward and extended a hand as though to clap it on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico we—”

“Reyna,” said Nico, cutting her off before she could finish. “I know why you’re here,” he said. Reyna looked visibly taken aback. “I thought you of all people would know better. Is this how you would treat a prisoner of the legion? You would simply let them _waltz_ out of their house and have a conversation with you?”

“Hey,” said Frank, voice gruff and tinged with some sort of emotion that Nico couldn’t quite pick up. “You are not a pris—” Frank immediately shut up when Nico sent a withering glare in his direction.

“Spare me the bullshit,” said Nico, about to go on a tirade when he felt one of Will’s hands on his left shoulder. Nico looked back at his boyfriend and sighed. He resignedly held his wrists out in front of him, expecting chains, rope, manacles, handcuffs, stocks, _some_ restraints of any sort. “And, Will,” he said, looking over his shoulder again, “put down the big stick.”

Reyna and Frank both looked over Nico’s shoulders, surprised that Will even had a weapon out. They had not noticed him come up to Nico and hide the quarterstaff with Nico’s body. “There won’t be any fighting here,” said Nico.

Will looked apologetically at Frank and Reyna. He removed the quarterstaff from where he’d held it against Nico’s back, one end up at Nico’s shoulder, the other at the back of Nico’s opposite thigh. “I know why you’ve come,” said Nico, “Are you going to tie me up, or are you going to keep standing there like idiots?”

“Nico,” said Reyna, her voice stern but weary. Nico really _looked_ at her for the first time since he came out onto the porch. She looked _tired_. “I don’t know why you did what you did. I still hope you didn’t actually do it, but for the friendship between the two of us, I’m not going to treat you like a criminal.”

Nico couldn’t even begin to fathom why Reyna still supported him despite everything. Why did she still think of him as a friend? Hadn’t he violated that bond of trust enough? He let an entire cabin be swallowed up by chaos, deprived so many families of daughters and sons, deprived Percy Jackson of the eternity that was promised to him.

Nico turned away, stinging tears in his eyes. He couldn’t look at Reyna. The guilt was too much. He could see the pain in the way that she stood, and that, on top of everything else, _hurt_.

“And Will,” said Reyna, a thread of sympathy making its way into her voice. “I didn’t want you to leave your apartment for your own sake. Gods know what Percy will do to you if he finds you.”

“Percy?” said Nico, his voice much lower than normal. Whatever nervous energy had been between the four of them curdled into something sharper. It might have been fear. Nico wasn’t sure. Either way, the silence that followed his question was uncomfortable.

“There’s a dark cloud around him,” said Reyna, shuddering where she stood.

“We were hanging out in the arena once,” said Frank, “He told me about that time he was tempted to embrace the darkness in his heart. He told me how he wanted to _kill_ Akhlys with her own poison.”

Nico didn’t want to pursue the topic any further. Nico had been there once. He knew how dangerous such deep dark thoughts were, especially for a child of the Big Three. They drew their powers from ancient blood, stained with both heroism and villainy. “How about Hazel? Is she alright?”

Will walked up to stand by Nico’s side. “She’ll be fine,” he said, reassuringly squeezing Nico’s shoulder. “She’s in my room, resting.” Will looked at Frank. The praetor nodded at him. “She’s resting. Whatever happened to the Athena kids did a number on her…” Will bit his lower lip. “But she’ll be alright.”

“Well then,” said Nico, forcing a smile on his face as he clapped his hands together. “Shall we see who wants my head on a platter?”

Reyna rolled her eyes even as she extended her spear and picked up her shield. Beside her, Frank reached behind his back and retrieved his bow, eyes scanning the darkness for any threats. “Athena,” said Reyna.

“I’m not going to try and guess what’s between you and Percy,” said Reyna, “but I hope that your friendship counts for something with him. Athena, though, has no such love for you. _She_ wants your head on a plate.”

\----------

The door to the hall of the gods looked like they had aged a hundred years between now and the first time that Nico had seen them. Reyna and Frank moved to the doors.

The two praetors braced themselves against the cold marble and _pushed_. Nico could see the muscle strain on Reyna and Frank. They were pushing with all their strength, and even then, the massive marble doors opened _slowly_. Each inch was accompanied by an eerie screech, and even more of the darkened chambers within was revealed.

Reyna and Frank stepped into the dark of the hall and motioned for Will and Nico to come forward. No sooner had Nico stepped beyond the threshold than he grunted in agony. Pain blossomed from his gut and it wasn’t much of a surprise when he looked down to see a golden spear embedded in his stomach.

Vengeful grey eyes filled his vision, and a voice filled with utter anguish and fury exploded in his ears. “ _Die, traitorous filth!_ ” Athena screamed in Nico’s ears with such force that blood began to trickle from them. “ _Pay for your monstrosity_ ,” she said.

Nico coughed. He brought trembling fingers to his lips and laughed bitterly when he saw them coated with blood. So much for _Ardwyad_ protecting him from the wrath of the gods, he thought. Almost immediately, the drakon-skin cloak around his shoulders hissed at him as though to tell him it was his own damn fault.

Nico heard the damned screaming in his ears. The earth around him split open, and souls of the spited, souls of the vengeful, streamed from the underworld and raged through the hall of the gods. The armies of the Revenant King had come to his aid. Eyes piercing the darkness of the hall of the gods, Nico let his head fall back when he saw his father pinning Athena against a wall with a raging torrent of darkness.

Nico felt warm fingers on his shoulders. Will was there, frantically shaking him. Nico swatted away Will’s hands when they strayed to the haft of the spear embedded in his gut. He wrapped his own hands around it, but before he could pull, out of the darkness came a shade that moved so fast he couldn’t react in time.

Nico gasped as the shadow pushed the spear deeper into him, forcing the blade between his ribs, and the tip clean through his back. When the moment of shock had passed, Nico looked up to see sea-green eyes glaring at him with burning rage and grief. “Fuck you,” Percy hissed, pushing once again on the spear just to drive it deeper. “Fuck you,” Percy said again, tears falling from his eyes.

It wasn’t Reyna or Frank that got Percy off of Nico. Will was too busy keeping him alive. It was a bolt of lightning that streaked down from the heavens that hurled the son of Poseidon across the hall, the peal of thunder that followed in his wake almost deafening.

“Jason,” Percy gasped, shaking his head as he picked himself up from the floor. Steam was rising from his exposed skin in curling strands. His clothes were torn to shreds, but it didn’t look like he particularly cared. “Don’t side with the fucking traitor,” Percy spat. “He killed Annabeth!”

Nico felt Will’s hands leave his shoulders. Rougher hands, calloused from hours of combat training, replaced them. They were warm, too, and slightly tingly. He suspected it was because of residual electricity. He craned his neck, looked into Jason’s cerulean eyes and sighed.

“No,” said Jason, voice so soft it was barely louder than a whisper. “No,” he said, again, this time in Percy’s direction. His voice became deeper, thrummed with power. “Nico would never do such a thing!” he yelled. Percy let loose a guttural scream of anger, but before he could rush at Nico again, a charging rhino knocked him into a nearby throne.

Jason wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, smearing blood across his face. “Reyna,” he said, looking up at the praetor. “Please. Help,” he begged.

Reyna wasted no time. She stood in front of Nico and pressed her hand against the shaft of the spear. “Reyna,” said Will, a gentle hand on her arm. “You shouldn’t do this on your own.” He was trembling, but he was trying his best to hold on to his composure. “You might do more harm than good. Let me help.”

Reyna looked at Will and nodded. She wasn’t about to argue with the camp medic. She knew basic first aid and healing herself, but probably not enough to warrant pulling a firmly embedded spear out of someone. Reyna wrapped her fingers around the spear, unfazed by the way that Will’s fingers wrapped around her own. Together, they ripped the spear out of Nico.

Nico wasn’t about to recommend getting gored by a spear, but he was pretty sure that death was a preferable alternative to having said spear pulled out of him. The pain was intense, and the only thing that kept him from screaming was the fact that _Jason_ was. Nico had inadvertently broken Jason’s wrist with the viciousness of his grip.

When the spear was finally dislodged from Nico, he looked up at Jason, eyes glazed over with pain. He managed a weak “Sorry about your wrist,” before promptly passing out.

\----------

The few minutes it took for Will to keep Nico stable were harrowing. They had all managed to drag him outside the hall—after Will healed Jason’s wrist. The resident healers had rushed out to help Nico, too. Apollo was by Will’s side, feeding him energy to keep up the steady stream of healing, while Asclepius was trying his best to seal up the wound in Nico’s gut.

Everyone knew that Nico needed to be moved elsewhere—somewhere safer—but there was no time. Even when Hades had offered to shadow-travel them to the infirmary after binding Athena with chains of Stygian Iron, Will refused. “No offense, Lord Hades,” he said, teeth gritted as streamers of golden light swept from his hands over Nico, “But it’s bad enough that Nico is clinging on to life. We don’t need the darkness to call out to him, too.”

Had the wound been from a normal javelin, there would not have been so much trouble, but Reyna had jerked Will aside as soon as they pulled the damn thing from Nico and told him that it was made of Imperial Gold. Jason visibly paled. He knew what it meant. Imperial Gold was anathema to demigods. He was one of the few that had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of it himself.

Nico’s flesh was taking a very long time to knit together, and so much blood was being lost. Asclepius was trying his best, pouring potions into the gaping wound, but to little effect. The effort was already showing on Will’s face, and even Apollo looked a little tired.

It certainly did not help anyone that the rest of the gods all sat in council within the hall. They were discussing what Nico’s fate was to be, as though he weren’t fighting for his life just outside the boundaries of the supposedly-hallowed ground.

The sixth time that Will heard a proposal to just let Nico die for the good of all, he _snapped_. Fortunately, it was some idiot minor god sitting in the corner. His skin glowed with the fiery radiance and fury of the sun. He grabbed _Eurwen_ , shifted it in his grip, and turned it into a javelin of ivory and gold.

Will’s light crept into the weapon, imbuing it with coruscating green and yellow. He reared back and hurled the weapon through the air. For once, his father’s gift was with him, and the javelin, which left glittering motes of light in the air as it passed, struck its mark.

The thrown javelin embedded itself in the unwitting minor god’s chest. The fool only managed to look down at the weapon protruding from his form before his essence was dispersed. From the look on Apollo’s face, Will hoped it was at least a month before the god reformed.

“Enough,” said Poseidon, voice booming and eyes glittering in the dim light of the hall of the gods. His words were grim and heavy with grief. It looked, to Will, that Poseidon was pained by the sight of his son in such suffering. “This court will speak with or without the rest of its members. This is too important a matter.”

Poseidon held out his hand and pulled it back, fingers coming together as though he were pulling at a sheet of cloth draped in front of him. The doors boomed shut moments later.

\----------

As soon as the other gods were out of view, Nico’s eyes snapped open. They glowed with an ethereal, wispy grey light. Will almost fell back in shock, but he kept up the flow of healing energy into Nico’s body.

The grey light crept down the sides of Nico’s face, down his neck, and to the area in his stomach that Will’s tendrils of golden light touched. The grey swallowed the gold, and Nico’s entire body _exploded_ with a dim, grey, lifeless radiance. Cold waves of mist condensed just above Nico’s skin and rolled over Will and Asclepius who, as composed as he was trying to seem, looked visibly uncomfortable.

“ _This is inconvenient_ ,” said Nico. He sat up, or rather, his soul did. A visage of Nico, one wrought of ethereal mist, glowing softly with grey light that reeked faintly of poppies and decay sat up. His wounded and broken body remained where it was. “ _I had hoped not to do the Sundering for some time yet,_ ” he said.

The wraith that was Nico reached across the distance between himself and his boyfriend. He stroked the side of Will’s cheek gently. He drifted closer to the son of Apollo, his lips brushing Will’s forehead. “ _Keep me safe, Lightbringer_ ,” he said, with a smile. “ _And don_ _’t worry about me. I will be alright. So long as I have a living body to return to._ ”

Nico’s wraith straightened, trailing wisps of cold grey mist behind him. The tendrils seemed to suck the very warmth out of the air, sapping the vitality from all that were around. Will reached out and touched the incorporeal form of Nico’s wraith. “You’ll have one,” he said, “You’ll have one.”

\----------

Will looked up at the wraith that hovered over him and was unable to stop the gasp that slipped from his lips. Nico was _monstrous_. Monstrous and beautiful all the same. He was in awe of what he saw. There was nothing haunted about the Nico that stood before him, no brokenness in the way he stood, no hunching of the shoulders in resignation.

The gauntness of Nico’s face was gone. His jaw was set handsomely, and his eyes, as colourless as they were in the grey mist, were piercing. He was all strength and sharp angles now, and yet he held himself with a confidence that was downright bestial—far from what one expected to see of a man that looked very much like Adonis.

Perhaps the most alluring thing about Nico, at least as far as Will was concerned, was the circlet of bones that encircled Nico’s brow. The circlet was thin at the back, but it grew progressively thicker as it wrapped around Nico’s head. It tapered to a point just above the centre of Nico’s forehead.

The circlet itself was made of what seemed to be finger-bones, and though much of it was hidden by shaggy locks of hair, its presence was downright electric. Upon Nico’s forehead, the crown rose into what seemed to be five spines, the inner ones taller than the outer. At the base of the central spire, set into the bones, was a silvery-white gem that glowed faintly with power.

\----------

Nico looked around him, amused in the slightest by the shocked faces of all that had gathered around. “ _Well_ ,” he said, as he locked eyes with his father, “ _There is good reason that those spirits at the feast called me the Revenant King_.”

Nico pressed forward, his wraith-like form sweeping across the ground in rolling waves of mist. His ethereal feet left his broken body behind as he walked up to the marble doors that were being held shut by Poseidon’s power. He held out his arms in front of his body and _pushed_.

A shockwave of energy erupted from Nico’s wraith-like form. It crashed against the door, which trembled with the force of his power. A crack ran up one of the sides, and fine marble dust rained down from the roof. Nico’s mortal body convulsed, and the wounds that had only _just_ been closing were torn open again.

“Nico,” said Will, not once taking his eyes from Nico’s body. “Nico, I don’t think you should be d—” It didn’t seem like Nico was listening to him at all. Nico thrust his arms forward again. This time, the doors buckled inward and even more dust rained down from the gaps that they left behind them. His body once again convulsed, and blood from the wound in his gut splattered against Will’s face.

“ _Keep me alive, sunshine_ ,” said Nico, his voice wispy as it drifted through the air. He looked over his shoulder, eyes filled with profound sadness. He locked eyes with Will, who was looking at him with fear and concern.

Nico pushed again. This time, he could clearly see the shockwave ripple through the air, shimmering at its edges, before _slamming_ into the doors. This time, they fell open, torn from their hinges, and shattered upon the floor.

“ _Is this really the right way to do due process?_ ” asked Nico. His voice thundered through the entire hall of the gods. Even the ones outside shook from the force of the words. “ _Is this really the way of the Greeks? To hold a trial in the absence of the accused?_ ”

Silence followed Nico’s accusatory words. He didn’t particularly care. He looked through the darkness and saw the person he was looking for. Piper was off to the side, holding Percy down and whispering charmspeak into his ear as Eros watched with distress on his face.

“ _Piper_ ,” said Nico. “ _Jason. Now. Please_.” Nico looked over his shoulder at Jason with concern. Will followed Nico’s look. The son of Jupiter was standing to one side, trembling with what was probably anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, knuckles white from how vicious his grip was. It looked like he was about to kill someone, and his eyes were directed at the goddess bound against the far wall by heavy black chains.

Piper looked up from where she had been struggling with Percy. Her charmspeak hadn’t been working as well as it should have been. The moment that she raised her eyes to Jason, her expression faltered. She gripped Percy by the collar and practically _screamed_ at him, her voice charged with power, frustration, anger, hurt and confusion.

Nico inwardly winced at the emotion in Piper’s voice. He had not wanted to cause such turmoil in his friends, but it had been necessary.

Nico watched as Piper’s frantic words pierced Percy’s resistance to them. Tore through it, more like. With each word, Percy seemed to grow more and more limp in Piper’s hands until finally, his eyes glazed over and a stupid smile spread across his face. As soon as Piper let go of him, Percy started rolling around, mumbling nonsense as though he were drunk.

Nico waited until Piper had run past him, the draft of wind that followed her warping his form in its wake, to look back at the gods gathered within the hall. He stretched his arms out to either side of him, streamers of grey ethereal flame flowing from the tips of his fingers.

Nico raised his eyes, glowing with dread light. He looked at Poseidon, whose own eyes, green as the sea, were glittering with anger. “ _Tell me, Lord of Theopolis_ ,” said Nico, voice thrumming with power, “ _What is it that you have decided for me?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Part 1 of the final chapter of _The Years of My Longing_. I do hope the wait was worth it. This chapter is extra long, too. :3.
> 
> Anyway, I would love to read what you have to say, so leave me a comment if you want to make my day! Happy Halloween to all of you, and if you've liked the story so far, leave me a kudos! <3.


	51. The End of an Era - Part 2

Glimmering, glittering, guttering like a candleflame in a draft, the light that streamed from the tips of Will’s fingers faltered as the acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air. Unwilling to, but left with little choice than to look at what was happening with Nico’s body _now_ , Will tore his eyes away from Nico’s wraith-like form. Will turned his back to the shattered doors that lay in front of the hall of the gods and he turned his attention back to what needed it most—the ailing body of his beloved.

Will lowered his eyes to the battered body that was laid out in front of him. A cold knot of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. Despite his divinely bolstered powers, he did not know if he could truly heal the damage. He did not know if he could keep Nico’s body alive. That, alone, was a terrifying thought.

Burns were inexorably climbing Nico’s arms. Skin turned angry red, broke out in boils, and then shivered to bitter black as time went on and as the edge of the burn wound crept along Nico’s arm. The smell was utterly repulsive, to both Will and all those around him. No matter how much Will himself tried to turn his head to breathe fresh air, the stench tore into his nose and left him gasping.

Nevertheless, Will forced himself onward. He looked over his shoulder briefly at Nico’s wraith. Nico would have persevered had he been the one dying. Nico would have broken all manner of laws of life and death to save him. He felt honour-bound to do the same for Nico.

Will was well aware that now was not the time to let the smell of burning flesh get in his way. He had smelled it enough times on the field of battle, especially following the fight with the Romans. He had treated enough burn wounds, too, to know that the smell was the best part of them. Everything else was even more grotesque.

Will turned his practiced eyes to the damage, surprised to find that it had worsened by a _lot_ in the brief time he had looked at Nico. One thing he had never encountered as a field medic was the development of a burn wound. When the blackened skin began to turn black and started sloughing off of the bone, Will decided that he had had _enough_.

With a surge of renewed energy, immediately followed by Apollo pitching dangerously forward, Will doubled his efforts. He couldn’t stop. Radiant healing energy erupted from Will’s hands, the light almost caustic in its intensity. The radiance climbed up his arms and made _him_ glow, before he suddenly unleashed an expanding ring of glittering golden light.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Hades’ robe being lifted and a pale pair of legs stepping over the light. Despite the severity of the situation, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought of the Lord of the Underworld being made uncomfortable by his healing energy.

Asclepius reached into his doctor’s bag and handed Apollo two pairs of sunglasses before settling one on the bridge of his own nose. Apollo put his pair on and slipped the other onto Will’s face. It helped a lot. Even if the light was coming from Will, it blinded him somewhat.

With the sunglasses on, Will could _see_ the effect of his healing. His heart sank in his chest when he realized that it wasn’t doing _much_. _Slowly_ , the burn wounds were beginning to retreat, but not fast enough. Will had thought that the wound from the Imperial Gold spear had been bad, but of course, true to form, Nico proved to be much more of a threat to himself than anything anyone else could throw at him.

The burn wounds, in particular, made Will’s heart ache. He wished that he could do more, but he was already at his limit, taxing both his and Apollo’s powers. As he felt the heat building within him, he knew that he was flirting with danger. He was walking the knife’s edge between using his powers to their fullest extent and overusing them to the point of full thermonuclear annihilation.

Will looked over his shoulder again. Nico’s ghost still stood strong, though this time Poseidon was also on his feet. He looked back at Nico’s body. It did not need to be said. He was willing to throw everything away just to make sure he didn’t lose Nico again.

\----------

When the doors to the hall of the gods swung inward and shattered against the floor, Poseidon rose from his chair in outrage. He slammed the butt of his trident against the floor, opening a rift into the saltwater of the Sound. He pointed his weapon of power at the son of Hades and bared his teeth, eyes glittering with anger.

Never before had Poseidon encountered such an insolent demigod—one so unafraid of the powers of the gods. Although, Poseidon had to admit that he did not think that Nico di Angelo was a _mere_ demigod anymore.

It was clear, to Poseidon and to the assembly of gods major and minor in Theopolis, that Nico di Angelo already transcended demigodhood. Nico had very plainly become something more. Perhaps it was natural, the fear that Poseidon felt at the prospect, or perhaps it was the influence of Zeus’ gnawing paranoia over the millennia that they had known each other.

“You are right,” said Poseidon, voice much more stern than he felt internally. The awesome might that Nico had just demonstrated—destroying wards and overcoming the powers of the gods that had held the doors closed—had cowed Poseidon, somewhat. In his pride, he was never going to admit that. “Your fate has already been decided.” Poseidon could not even begin to fathom how the boy could still be so powerful even after being gored by an Imperial Gold spear.

Nico looked at the trident that had been levelled at him and raised an eyebrow. Poseidon’s anger slowly slipped away as he lowered the weapon. Poseidon rested the tines of the trident against the stone floor and sighed, heavily. The day’s events weighed heavily on his shoulders. “No matter your reasons,” said Poseidon, “No matter your justifications, you have been found complicit in the cold-blooded murder of your fellow demigods.”

The eyes of all the gathered deities were on Nico, now. It was clear that the words were just a formality, but both Nico and Poseidon knew that there were other words that remained unsaid. Nico knew that this was a political move by many of the gods, an ousting of the one person that they viewed to be a threat to their power and their authority. “Banishment is to be your punishment,” said Poseidon.

“You claim to have good reasons for abandoning those of your blood and your kin to the whims of the Protogenos of Night.” Poseidon paused and looked at Nico meaningfully. “We hope that you will be noble enough to accept that the punishment that this council of gods has decided to mete out is just.”

Nico knew what was being said. Nico knew that the gods were hoping he cared enough about his reputation to not rebel against the decision of the council. Nico knew that they wanted him gone so that they can fight the war the only way that they knew how—the one way that would mean certain doom for everyone that Nico had ever let himself care about.

No. Nico wasn’t about to let the gods run the campers right off of a cliff that they were too blind to see. They might have changed in the last three years and become more loving of the children that they had brought into the world, but they were still the gods of ancient Greece. If they were anything, they were prideful and spiteful. Nico could not let them lead the demigods to their deaths.

Nico took a single step forward, and it was enough to send the minor gods nearest to him scrambling away from wherever they sat. Spectral fire licked up the lengths of his fingers and his arms as anger slowly burned through his being. “You think that you can banish me for making the choice that would save the most lives?” he demanded. He stomped his foot and the entire hall shook with the force of it.

“Fine,” Nico spat. Instead of spittle, a glob of liquid spectral flame splashed against the marble floor. The preternatural heat caught the stone alight and blackened it with soot. “You may well banish me from this city, but I swear to you. _All_ of you. There is nothing in your combined powers that can ever hope to stop me from helping the people that I love.” A chill ran up Nico’s spine. “I will not let you doom your children. I may care nothing for you, but I care for _them_.”

Poseidon took a step forward to match Nico’s. He was trying his best to look threatening, but the facade was a flimsy one at best. “Leave this place,” Poseidon whispered, voice menacing on the surface, but nervous upon further inspection. “Leave this place and never return,” he said. “Those who wish to join you are free to do so, as long as they understand that the moment they do, they forfeit the protection of the gods and are banished, too.”

Nico strode forward, burning black scorch marks into the marble where he stepped. His ghostly form became more vicious, more monstrous. Where there had been beauty earlier, there was now savagery. What had seemed like ethereal mist earlier turned to tongues of spectral flame. Nico bared his teeth, eyes glowing with the dread power of the unliving. “You should know better than to threaten _me_ and _mine_ , earthshaker,” he said.

The light of terror pooled in the centre of Nico’s palm and a ghostly blade began to take shape. Poseidon raised his trident, ready to fight the Revenant King, but a scream of utter panic from Will pierced the air. “ _No!_ ” Nico’s heart skipped a beat. He looked over his shoulder and saw the light from Will intensify to such an extent that he couldn’t even see the son of Apollo through it. He dropped the blade from his fingers and watched it dissolve before it even hit the stone floor.

Nico turned his eyes back to Poseidon, worried but unfazed. He walked up to the centre of the room, scattering the minor gods that had gathered there. The Olympians that remained did not move an inch from where they sat, eyes discerning and cold. He was about to say a few more choice words to Poseidon—none of them pretty—when reality itself seemed to ring like a struck bell.

In the moments of clarity that followed, motes of golden light began to stream through the cracks in the stonework of the hall of the gods. Nooks and crannies became home to droves of what seemed to be fireflies that drifted about in the air for a few seconds before dissolving into showers of glittering gold.

Another peal sounded, echoing through the room and driving the hands of many gods to their ears. The golden motes thickened and gained substance, becoming tendrils of coruscant mist that drifted about aimlessly. Another peal followed the second, much sooner on its tail than the second had been after the first. Nico nearly jumped when he felt a warm hand grasp his shoulder.

Nico whirled around where he stood and found himself face to face with his mentor. Another ringing peal shook the world, and the gods as one groaned. The Nameless One was mostly unaffected. In fact, his eyes were solely for Nico. They glittered with pride and swam with a healthy dose of worry. “I told you not to do this unless it was absolutely necessary. You jeopardize your own soul doing this.”

Nico frowned at his mentor. “You don’t think it necessary now?” he said, unable to keep the disbelief and anger from his voice. “I came back to camp after three years to help it survive the war that’s coming. The war that I wasn’t even supposed to be involved with.”

“I did what I thought was the right thing,” said Nico, voice thick with emotion. His eyes flitted over to where Percy was still on the floor, blissfully ignorant of what had transpired that night. “Making the choice to sacrifice Annabeth was a difficult one, but it was one that I _had_ to take because of you.” Tears bit at the corners of Nico’s eyes, turning his vision blurry as he looked in the direction of the miniature sun that was Will.

“I know it was difficult,” said the Nameless One. “I made sure of that.” Nico glared at his mentor, though he knew it to be true. If it were not for the Nameless One’s involvement, the war would neither be so impossible nor so possible at the same time. “But that is why I chose you, Nico di Angelo. I had faith that you would choose well.”

The Nameless One looked over his shoulder and waved a hand. The light that had shrouded Will faded away for him and for Nico. “There is someone who loves you very dearly that needs you right now,” said the Nameless One. “It would be remiss of me to not advise you to be with him.”

“I am not done here, teacher,” Nico hissed. The pale gray mist that made up his form grew darker.

“Yes, you are,” said the Nameless One. The age-old god placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder once again. The world spun as they instantly switched places. “You made a difficult choice and won a difficult battle. It is time you take a rest.” The Nameless One’s fingers travelled down to the middle of Nico’s chest. “Let me handle this.”

Nico was about to say something when the Nameless One gave him a brief shove. He fell backward, stumbling over nothing until he finally slammed into his broken and battered body. He could still see. Could still feel. The pain from expelling his wraith finally caught up to him and he convulsed in agony.

Streamers of golden mist erupted from Will’s fingers, threading themselves into the injuries that Nico’s body had sustained thus far. Nico felt tears come to his eyes as the cool and soothing light dissolved into his flesh and healed every one of his hurts. Will stopped for a moment and looked at his hands in surprise. Both Apollo and Asclepius were similarly stunned.

Will thrust his hands forward once more, and Nico’s back arched off of the ground as the wound in his gut knitted shut. All the pieces of Imperial Gold that remained buried in his body coalesced into a shimmering dot above his belly button.

The burn wounds that had climbed Nico’s arms vanished, the damaged skin retreating as it was replaced with healthy pink skin. Nico’s eyes fluttered open as the coolness of the healing energies chased away the pain. He took in a gasping breath of air, only to have it knocked out of him in a heartbeat by the bone-crushing hug that followed.

Will was warm to the touch, and for once, the disgust did not make itself known to Nico. He wrapped one arm around Will’s back as the son of Apollo shook. “You’re alive,” Will whispered in Nico’s ear. “You’re alive.”

\----------

The Nameless One smiled at Poseidon once he had taken care of Nico. The boy was like a son to him, one among so many over the long history of the human race. One that was no less special than all the others.

The Nameless One bared his teeth, their jarring whiteness sparkling in the dim light of Nico’s spectral fire. Poseidon growled. He had about had enough of the smug elder god, but despite himself, and the fury he felt at the state his son had been reduced to, the power radiating from the Nameless One’s apparition was enough to keep him at bay—for now.

“Come now,” said the Nameless One, voice positively cheerful. “Poseidon, surely you must feel it in the air. The power thrumming through the cosmos.” The Nameless One held his hands out to either side of him, golden mist streaming from thin air and flowing over his arms. “Today is an auspicious day. It is a day for joy, not grief. It is a day for declarations, not eulogies.”

Poseidon’s eyes darkened. He hefted his trident and levelled it at the Nameless One, knowing full well that he might as well have raised a fork to an angry bear. He looked over to the side, where Percy had been knocked insensate to protect him from the crushing weight of grief. “How dare you say that today is a day for joy?”

Athena, bound as she was in the corner, spat in the Nameless One’s direction. “You know what happened here today,” said Poseidon, the corners of his lips twisting into an ugly snarl. “Of course you do. You were the architect of all the griefs that have befallen us to this day. How dare you come into my city and tell me that her sorrow and my anger are irrelevant on this day?”

“Please,” said the Nameless One. His form shifted into mist as he stepped forward onto the trident. The tines of the weapon protruded from his back, but seemed to have no effect on him. He knocked the trident aside and out of Poseidon’s hand, proving it harmless as it passed through his form. “You and I both know that neither you, nor all the gods of Greece put together can do anything to hurt me,” said the Nameless One. “So heed my words. I may neither care about you, nor care about Athena, but I do care about the children of Greece as I care about the people of the world.”

“When I say that today is a day for joy, I mean it,” said the Nameless One. “And so that you will not do anything stupid, I consecrate this place, in _my name_ , a _sanctuary_.”

Poseidon had quite a few harsh words to say about the Nameless One consecrating an area of the city that had _already_ been consecrated to _him_. Fortunately, he did not get the chance. Golden mist began to seep from in between seams in the fabric of reality, pooling in the Nameless One’s open palms.

The Nameless One swept his arm across one half of the hall of the gods, smiling as a wave of golden mist materialized and swept over it. He swept his arm across the other half. The wave of mist that followed was shimmering and almost blinding in its radiance.

The Nameless One pivoted on his heel and faced the direction where a tearful Will was currently embracing Nico. He pushed his hands toward them, and the mist roiled over them, coruscant and bright.

\----------

When Percy finally woke up—his thoughts first turned to the nightmare that his life had become in the brief span of a single day. He couldn’t quite believe that Annabeth was gone. _Really_ gone. The pain was indescribable, never getting to see his better half, his best friend, ever again. Even Elysium wouldn’t give him any solace from the pain.

Percy looked around and realized that he wasn’t in the hall of the gods anymore. His surroundings were strange, and alien. The walls and floor were made out of stone so white that they were almost painful to look at. The trim that traced out the top and bottom edges of the walls glittered like gold—like the columns that paraded down the length of the seemingly-endless room.

It was only moments later that Percy realized he was being held by someone. His back was being kept off of the floor by surprisingly-strong and gentle arms. He was being cradled in the lap of someone with a painfully familiar face that he only now noticed. He reached out for her, fingers trembling. “Annabeth?” he said.

Annabeth chuckled. The sound filled Percy with more joy than he thought possible. “Annabeth,” he said, again, half-disbelieving. He threw his arms around her neck and pulled her in tight for an embrace. It was almost as though his life depended on her being _actually_ there. “Are you alive?” he whispered. Annabeth shook her head, and Percy could see pain briefly flash across her eyes. “Am _I dead_?” he whispered. Annabeth shook her head, again.

Percy’s ears rang when a disembodied voice began to speak. “Gods, goddesses, and demigods of Greece and Rome,” said the voice, its words resonating through the entire hall. Percy tried to look for the source, but couldn’t discern one. “We gather today to witness the hope of a new day rising.”

A thunderous clap nearly knocked Percy and Annabeth over. The air before them shifted and rippled, as though water. As the ripples made their way across the entirety of Percy’s vision, he saw that he and Annabeth were not alone. They were apart from all that had gathered, but there all the same. He and Annabeth were on what seemed to be a stage, one overlooking a throng of familiar faces. Poseidon, and, surprisingly, Hades and Zeus, stood in the front row. Their children were in the row behind them.

“What’s going on, Annabeth?” said Percy. He looked around again and saw, briefly, over Annabeth’s shoulder, teh Nameless One smiling at him. A cold resentment solidified in Percy’s stomach. The Nameless One. The god that was to blame for _everything_. Annabeth must have sensed that he wanted to do something stupid, because the next thing he knew, there was a hand being pressed firmly into his chest.

“This is the dawning of a new age,” said Annabeth. A smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. Percy’s breath was swept away, and he could only touch the lines in amazement. Percy reached up and pressed a kiss to Annabeth’s lips. It was a chaste one, but it carried all the passion that he had for her. It was the most sincere way he could think of to show that he loved her. She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

A moment of silence stretched between of them, broken only when Annabeth spoke. “You have to forgive him, Perce,” she said, eyes flitting in the direction of the son of Hades. Percy didn’t dare follow her gaze. He shivered when he felt Annabeth’s fingers stroke the side of his face, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “Did you really think that he would have sent me to my death in cold blood?” Annabeth patted Percy’s cheek. “He knew from the  beginning that even if he made the choice to lead you guys away from me, that ultimately, my fate would be my own choice. That’s just how the Nameless One works.”

Percy bit his lower lip, trembling. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, because blaming someone was always easier than accepting what  was likely the truth, he had known Nico for some time. He knew that Nico was just as fiercely loyal to his friends as Percy was. Deep inside, he knew that Nico would never stoop to cold-blooded murder. Deep inside, he feared what it meant that Annabeth was given a choice. “So you chose to leave me?” he whispered, much too afraid of the answer.

Annabeth shook her head. She pressed her forehead against Percy’s. “No, no,” she said, gently squeezing Percy’s arm. “I would _never_ choose to leave you. Not on purpose.” Percy sighed. He could tell that there was more. Some stupid justification that he wasn’t sure he wanted to accept. “I chose to take the path that would keep you alive. The one that would give you the _best_ chance at happiness.”

Whatever Percy was about to say was left forgotten when the Nameless One declared “Gods and goddesses, welcome the _Sterai_ to the family!” There was a collective gasp from the rest of the room as thirteen gods and goddesses, each made of pure glittering starlight, appeared in front of the assemblage. “They may be the enemies of Greece and Rome today, but make no mistake. They fight only in deference to the one that created them. When their debt is paid, they will be dear allies. They will also be the heralds of the future.”

Percy knew those forms all too well. They were the ones that had taken Annabeth away from him. If there was any more need for damning evidence of the Nameless One’s meddling—there wasn’t a need—then this was it. “Furthermore,” said the Nameless One, “for her noble sacrifice, purity of heart, and strength of will, when this war is done a new goddess of a people born anew will come forth.”

The Nameless One gestured to one side, and another chorus of gasps rang out. An image of Annabeth, exactly the same as the one that held him tenderly, appeared. Well, there was one difference. The image of Annabeth was resplendent and beautiful in a way that the mortal Annabeth, even in her best, could never have hoped to match. She wielded an aura of divinity stronger than any other in the room, and the way with which she walked forward to face the crowd was so regal that Percy almost felt compelled to kneel before her.

“Some of you knew her once as Annabeth Chase,” said the Nameless One, “but to save Greece and Rome, she has chosen to take a difficult and peril-laden path forward.” The _Sterai_ , as one, pivoted on their heels and faced Annabeth’s image. They knelt to her. “And the _Sterai_ will be there to both guide her and be guided by her. Mankind will no longer merely _dream_ of reaching for the stars. It _will_.”

Upon the brow of Annabeth’s image, a glittering circlet of blue steel materialized. The simple dress that had the image had been wearing transformed, too. Where there had been cloth only moments ago was now glittering armour made of plaited strands of metal. “Though few of you here today will ever see her again,” said the Nameless One with a tinge of regret in his voice, “know that her goals are noble, and her heart true. She will remain a friend of Greece and Rome, as well as a steadfast ally in this age, in the next, and in all the ones yet to come.”

“What does he mean, Annabeth?” said Percy. Part of him really wanted to know, but part of him also didn’t. “Am I never going to see you again?” he said.

“You will,” said Annabeth. She took Percy’s hand and covered it with her own. “Trust me, Percy. We love each other, we really do, and we will never be truly apart.” It was Annabeth that initiated the kiss, this time. “But I will be somewhere else. I have something I need to do now, Percy,” she said. Annabeth smiled so brightly at Percy that he felt bad for wanting to cry. “I’m going to see mankind to the stars,” she said.

“But we’ll never be _together_ again, will we?” said Percy. He could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t know how long he could keep them back. “Not in this way. Not in any way again.” Percy squeezed his eyes shut and hugged Annabeth again. The tears came hot and fast, rolling down his cheeks and dripping down from his chin. “Is this goodbye? You’re my best friend, Annabeth. What am I supposed to do without you?”

Annabeth reached up and gently wiped the tears from Percy’s cheeks. “You’ll find a way,’ she said. “You always find a way, seaweed brain. Even if your methods are sometimes unconventional.” Percy couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was strained and bitter with grief. “But yeah. You’re right. I should call this what it is and stop pretending it’s what it isn’t. This is goodbye. For now, and for a long time still. But I promise, Percy, we’ll see each other again.”

A pregnant silence fell upon the two of them as they savoured their moments together. It was Percy that broke it. “How can I ever forgive Nico for taking you away from me?” said Percy.

“Because,” said Annabeth. She stroked the side of Percy’s face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “If you can’t forgive him for making a choice to keep the people he loves alive—then you can’t forgive me for the choice that _I_ made, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't know how long you guys can hold out, I decided to post half of the final chapter that I've managed to get done. :3. I promise I'll actually get into writing this fulltime once I'm done all of my finals, but for now, this will have to do. :3.
> 
> Tell me what you think of this chapter. I'd love to read what you have to say. <3\. Leave a kudos if you liked the story this far, and leave a comment if you definitely want to make my day. ;3.


	52. The End of an Era ~ Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With classes finally over, and finals done with, I bring to you the final chapter of The Years of My Longing. There are still plot threads that need to be tied up, enemies to be fought, and relationships to be sorted out. Take heart, though, since the next leg, a short story entitled "Awakening" is already in the works. ;3.

A hush fell over the entire hall, like a thick blanket smothering all conversation. The air beside the Nameless One had begun to shimmer and stretch, a faint radiance shining through the creases in the fabric of reality. As the light grew, the silence swept further and further back along the throng of gods and demigods that had gathered for the momentous occasion.

When the radiance became so bright that it hurt to look at, everyone turned their eyes away—mortal and immortal alike. Moments later, a collective gasp and a wave of murmuring washed over all that were gathered. The _Moirai_ had appeared.

The Fates were dressed in their battle regalia, though their twisted and ancient forms did not seem to threatening aside from the Celestial Bronze clubs that they held firmly to their sides. Everyone had thought that the Fates were trapped on Olympus, like the others. Everyone had been so sure that they had been bound there by Zeus’ authority.

Nico di Angelo was, as far as he knew, the only demigod that knew the truth. The oldest of the _Moirai_ , Atropos, smiled. Her teeth gleamed in the light-suffused air. In a voice that creaked and yawned like an ancient oak swaying in a particularly strong breeze, she said, almost derisively, “Whomsoever stands before us that truly believed we were ever bound by the powers of Zeus alone is a fool.”

Nervous laughter rose from the crowd of gods and demigods. As if Zeus needed any more of his authority as King of Olympus stripped from him. Frankly, the indignant grunt of Zeus made Nico rather uncomfortable. From where he stood behind Hades, fingers intertwined with Will who was behind _him_ , Nico could see that Zeus was trembling with anger where he stood.

“The Fates are a force that Zeus could never have hoped to control,” said the Nameless One. He descended from his podium and stood in front of the three sisters. Their forms shimmered as they became the three beautiful women that Nico had seen before, when they had visited him and warned him of how he would betray Percy and take away that which Percy held dearest.

“Nor,” said the Nameless One, gesturing out toward the back of the hall, “did they belong to Greece and Rome alone.” The Nameless One extended his hand. The three sisters took it, their forms shimmering until they formed a single entity—Fate. “To the Norse they are the Norns; to Egypt, they are Shai; and, to the Celts, they are Aerfen.”

“Since the beginning of the human race,” said the Nameless One, gently stroking the side of Fate’s face as she visibly took on the form of a man. “They are without gender, as I am—though I evidently have a preferred gender identity. Their names are many over the long history of this proud race, but not so many that they are nameless like I am. They are Fate, and though we have danced this dance many times for thousands of years, one thing has never changed. They are my partner—my better half.”

Fate rose to the podium, still holding hands with the Nameless One. Nico could have never imagined that this was the case. When the Fates had told him that they knew of the Nameless One, he never would have imagined that the Fates were the manifestation of the beloved that the Nameless One had lost to the perpetual cycle so very long ago. “The Nameless One stands for the inexorable march of progress,” said Fate, “while I stand for the guiding light of tradition—and history.”

“At the birthplace of each civilization, thanks to our shared sin long ago, the Nameless One and I are rent apart. I guide them from within, while he guides them from without.” Fate leaned down and kissed the Nameless One. “But I am joined to him once again when they need my guidance no longer.”

Fate looked down at the crowd, eyes locking with Nico’s. Nico shivered where he stood. “Know this, gods and demigods of Greece and Rome. All the sacrifices of the ones that came before you, and the prophecies that led them to their destinies, were not in vain.”

“Today dawns a new era,” said Fate. “Today begins an age in Greece and Rome alike where every man, every woman, every elder, every child—every person—will be given the chance to forge their own destinies. The time has come, children of Greece and Rome. From this day forth, you will be free of the guiding hand of Fate.”

Nico shivered again. “Today marks the end of the era of prophecy. Today marks the final verse of the Sibylline books.” Those words did little to ease Nico’s fears. He knew that a working of this magnitude was not without a price. There was always a price.

Just as Nico had predicted, the Nameless One took his turn. “But,” said the Nameless One, “a sacrifice must be made in order for this to happen. Magic this powerful does not come without a price.”

Nico clutched Will’s hand tightly. He didn’t know why, but in this place, the disgust that he would have felt otherwise was absent. He pulled Will closer. He knew what was coming next, and when time seemed to stop all around them, Nico knew that it had begun.

The Nameless One and Fate descended from the stage. Their footsteps were as one. Their arms were wound together, fingers interlinked like Nico and Will. As one, the two age-old deities waved their hands and the images of all the other gods and demigods around Nico and Will dissolved like ashes to the wind.

“It is simply, truthfully, the price that must be paid,” said Fate. “If there were any other way, we would not be standing in front of you now,” Fate continued. He looked first at Nico, then at Will. He bowed to each of them, in turn. “Revenant King,” he said, “Lightbringer.”

Nico pulled Will closer. They shared a look, eyes widening simultaneously as they realized that they could _feel_ the emotions of the other. They were both apprehensive but ready to do what needed to be done. “Devotion,” said the Nameless One. “It is the only thing powerful enough to make sure that this new age we aim to bring about will not fall apart.”

Nico frowned, but it was Will who spoke for him. “How are we supposed to pay you with devotion?” said Will. The Nameless One and Fate shared a look, and then laughed. Their forms shimmered and shifted until Nico and Will found themselves looking at their own mirror images.

“Pay _us_ with devotion?” said Fate, who had taken on the form of Will. “No, there will be no such thing. We have no shrines, no temples. We need neither—nor do we need your worship to sustain us.”

The Nameless One, who had taken on Nico’s form, looked at Nico. “The price you must pay, if you wish to, is one final prophecy that will bind your fates together. More so than they already are.”

Fate tightened their grip on the Nameless One’s hand. “It will be one final great prophecy that will only ever be heard by your ears. It will never be spoken of by any lips other than yours. If there were any other way, we would find it, but this is the way it always has been. Laws Cosmic demand it.”

The Nameless One extended his free hand and gripped Nico’s shoulder. “I know that it is much to ask of you,” said the Nameless One, “you have already given up so much.” Nico looked over his shoulder at Will, who seemed to be deep in thought. He could sense a burning determination radiating from Will, though. “But you know as well as I do, that there are no others like the two of you in Greece and Rome.”

Nico felt Will’s grip on his hand tighten. He looked over his shoulder again and almost stumbled back at the resolution that swept onto him from Will. He felt the same way, but the fire in Will’s eyes was fiercer than he had thought. There was no doubt in their minds that they would both accept the price. They had much to atone for, after all.

“This isn’t something we ask of you lightly,” said Fate. “The path ahead will be long and dark and winding and dangerous. There will be times when you will think that there is no end in sight—to the road and the cruelty that comes with it.”

Nico and Will shook their heads. Their minds and hearts were as one, now. A soft radiance was leaking from the gaps between their intertwined fingers. “As long as we have each other,” said Nico and Will, “the path will neither be too dark nor too bright.” They kissed, the light enveloping them. Their minds cried out as one. “We accept.”

As the light that surrounded the two demigods grew ever brighter, the words of the prophecy were whispered into their ears. After what seemed like an eternity, the radiance subsided and they found themselves back in the great hall, in the midst of the gathered gods and demigods.

The Nameless One raised his arms into the air and said, “The price has been paid!” A dull roar swept the hall from the rear toward the front. “A bargain has been struck. Today, Greece and Rome, you begin to forge your own destiny!”

Nico locked eyes with the Nameless One, heart beating a mile a minute from the words of the last great prophecy. The Nameless One looked sad—remorseful, even. Nico understood now why the two had been so hesitant to ask them to pay the price. However, looking at Will, Nico knew that they could weather the future together. They both knew that what they did was necessary. They both knew that even in the darkness that was to come, they would just have to find their own happiness however they could.

\----------

I stood at the edge of the green, looking out over the sound. The skies were overcast; they were fitting for the solemnity of the day. I was alone—or at least I would have been if not for my better half that had insisted on coming.

“Nico,” said Will, as he walked up to stand behind me. I felt his warm breath ghosting over the skin of my exposed shoulder. It was a welcome sensation, since I had been foolish enough to walk out into camp wearing a tank top this early in the morning. “They’re starting,” said Will, leaning his chin on the crook of my neck. He pressed a kiss to the base of my jaw. “Don’t you want to be there?” he said.

The last two weeks had been, suffice to say, _difficult_. The events of the fateful night that had left the Athena cabin empty had left an indelible impression with the campers. It had all soured my relationship with them. Worshipful stares had turned to fearful, accusatory ones.

The pillars that had been erected on my request, with the Nameless One’s help, had been vandalized with ancient Greek profanity on more than one occasion. The fact that they protected the camp was lost on whomever it was that had done the deed.

I turned to face Will. I wound my arms around his slender waist. Even like this, he was beautiful. Early in the morning, hair sticking up in so many odd ways. His eyes were bleary with sleep. “That would just be a slap in the face, Will,” I told him, “besides, Poseidon already asked that I keep my distance.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to,” said Will. He stroked the side of my face, and I couldn’t help but relish in his touch. The soft skin of the backs of his fingers left trails of warmth down along my cheek. “I mean,” said Will, with a small smile, “it’s already been established that none of them could _really_ challenge you, anyway, right?”

I chuckled, both inwardly and outwardly. If only Will knew that he possessed a similar kind of power and only needed to awaken it. Ah, but it wasn’t my place to help him reach that pinnacle. “But he asked so nicely,” I said, as I shook my head.

It was becoming easier, being with Will. The repulsion I had felt whenever I was around him just felt like a distant memory most days. There were days when it was more difficult, though, but he understood. We slept in the same room most nights, now. He would wake me from my nightmares, and I would wake him from his. But like the way he gave me space when I was having one of my difficult days, I let him sleep in his own room when he needed to.

It kept me awake at night, always. It was unsettling, feeling his life literally bleeding out of him, but I knew that it was something he did to cope. He did it less and less often now, and like the way that I could stand with him like this most days, it just meant that things were beginning to look up.

I pressed a kiss to Will’s cheek. “No,” I told him, “they can’t hold a candle to me. But I think it’s for the best. He’s right, you know.” I rested my nose against his. I could feel his breath ghosting over the stubble I had been too lazy to shave over the last three days. “It would be insulting if I showed up. There would be a fucking riot.”

“And here I was, hoping for some action,” said Will. Even the way he smirked was beautiful. I kissed the crooked smile off of his face, and he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Alright, then, death boy,” he said, “let’s watch from here.”

“You know, if you wanted to go, you could go,” I said to him. From what I’ve seen, the campers didn’t seem to have too much trouble with Will hanging around me. They knew how he was—at least the older campers did—always trying to fix things. Always trying to heal people. They didn’t blame him for what they thought was him trying to fix me.

Of course, in their infinite wisdom, they hadn’t even realized that he was just as broken as I was. Neither of us needed anyone else to fix us, but we did need each other to hold together while we did it for ourselves. “Nobody seems to hate you for what happened,” I whispered to him, “other than Percy, I think.”

“No,” said Will, “even if there weren’t any hard feelings for me…” Will paused and sighed, before pressing a quick peck to my lips. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Will must have seen the blush on my face, because the genuine smile on his lips turned quickly into a smirk. As before, I kissed it off of him. This time, I held him close. It had been too long since I felt this way for someone. I wanted to make it last.

We stood like that for some time, just kissing and enjoying each other’s company. We stopped when we heard Hades’ voice filter over the cool air toward us. We parted to watch the ceremony.

A pyre had been constructed at the edge of the Sound. Water sloshed over the wood whenever the waves came in, but miraculously, everything remained dry. At least a dozen shrouds of glittering silver were laid out upon the pyre. Since there hadn’t been any Athena kids left, Athena had woven all of the shrouds herself.

There were campers both on the beach and on the bridge that stretched out between that spot and Theopolis. It seemed as though everyone had come to pay their final respects to the children of Athena. It was Percy that took the torch and tossed it into the dry wood. The pyre came ablaze with golden flames and silver embers.

A light drizzle began to fall as the fire licked at the wood and the shrouds. Hades said a few things about love and loss and redemption, but not even my father wanted to trivialize the tragedy that we were all remembering.

It took a while for the pyre to burn through. By the time it had, the crowd had dwindled to just the older campers and those that had been close friends with the younger Athena kids. From where Will and I stood, I could see that Poseidon kept looking nervously at the one demigod that stood apart from the rest—Percy. The son of Poseidon hadn’t moved from where he’d stopped when he threw the torch onto the pyre. The heat didn’t seem to faze him one bit.

I had to hand it to Percy. He was a powerful demigod. To think that he could affect the weather without even having to depend on Jason…

Eventually, even the last of the demigods dispersed, leaving Percy alone with the gods. Athena shimmered and disappeared. The others followed soon enough. Persephone walked over to stand beside Percy before laying a garland of glittering silver flowers at the foot fo the pile of ashes that had taken the place of the pyre. She joined Hades, and they both said their condolences to Poseidon before walking away.

I watched, heart heavy, as Percy slowly began to sink to his knees. Even from where Will and I stood, I could see that his shoulders were shaking. Will huddled close to me. I took his hand and threaded my fingers through his. I had never seen the great Hero of Olympus so broken, but more than anything, it hurt to know that I was the cause of it.

Our fates seemed to have reversed. Where once, it was him, now I stood with someone that I loved with all my heart—someone that had promised to be with me through thick and thin. That, I think, was the true tragedy of our tale.

The years of my longing had finally ended—but his had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There we are. The end of an era. The end of The Years of My Longing.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Particularly the scene at the end? I think it was pretty apt, to include Nico's personal ruminations about what had happened so far. I think it's important that we see the funeral for the Athena children from his point of view. It's pretty evident, I think, that it weighs heavily on his mind. But, he knows that it was necessary, so he isn't as broken up over it as he would otherwise be.
> 
> What did you think of the small sneak peek that we got into how his relationship with Will has developed over the two weeks that followed the day of declaration? I would love to read what you have to say about that. :3.
> 
> Anyway. I still owe you guys an epilogue to The Years of My Longing, but that will come at a later date. For now, I hope you liked this chapter, and most of all, I hope you liked this series. Could you believe this has been running for almost a year now? I certainly can't. Either way, leave a kudos if you liked the story, and leave a comment if you want to make my day! <3.


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